
Class. 
Book. 



, L <61— 



/ 



3UL- 



THE 



POETICAL WORKS 



OF THE LATE 



AMOS LOVE, Esq. 



Abundat diilcibus vitiis. : 



m 







P^€>- 






i -^r rr^^^^ ^g 



LONDON : 

JOHN LOWNDES, 36, BOW STREET. 

TnLDCCCXXIV. 



1 9% 4r 



TO THE EDITOR 

OF THE 

POETICAL WORKS 

OF THE LATE 

THOMAS LITTLE, E^Q, 

THESE POEMS 

ARE RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED, 

BY 

THE EDITOR. 



PREFACE 

BY THE EDITOR. 



A Preface, now-a-days, is almost as re- 
quisite a prelude to a new work, as a symphony 
to a song. Not that I think them always neces- 
sary ; for, in fact, nine times out of ten, they are 
" flat, stale, and unprofitable'' — or to use a 
simile, resemble the disagreable commencement 
of a journey into a pleasant country, namely, 
the heavy drag of your post-chaise over the stones 
before you get on level ground, after which you 
roll on smoothly and pleasantly enough. In some 
cases, however, there is an absolute call for pre- 
fatory matter. For instance, in the present; as 
I am well assured my readers (more especially 
should the contents please them) would feel dis- 
appointed were I to neglect giving them some 
account of their author, the which I shall do as 

b 



VI PREFACE. 

concisely as possible : — for as " brevity is the 
soul of wit," so, in my opinion, is it the beauty of 
a preface. 

Amos Love, the author of the principal part of 
the following poems, was the youngest son of 
Alfred Love, Esq. of Pembroke Hall, Somerset- 
shire. At the age of sixteen, his father, after 
having expended a little fortune in private tutors 
at home, sent him to Biasen-Nose College, Ox- 
ford, where the writer of this first met and 
formed with him an intimacy and friendship 
which lasted to the end of his life. 

But a short period elapsed before I discovered 
that my friend was not only an admirable scholar, 
but likewise a tolerable poet; and the principal 
portion of the following trifles were, I believe, 
composed during the first six months of his re- 
sidence at Brasen-Nose. As I thought many of 
them possessed great merit, I ventured to ask 
whether he intended, after a careful revisal, to 
publish them. " By no means," was his reply. 
" The partial approbation of indulgent friends is 
too apt to intoxicate young authors, and make 



PREFACE. VII 

thenj fancy they are going to carry the applause 
of the world by storm. But I am not one so 
easily hoodwinked ; nor shall their partiality 
make me blind to the faults I know they pos- 
sess ; and if ever they go forth to the world, it 
shall be when I am no longer in the " land of the 
living," when the praise or dispraise of that 
world will be alike indifferent. For, to say the 
truth, I should never be sufficiently stoical to 
follow Irnlac's * advice to a poet, namely, " To 
content himself with the slow progress of his 
name ; contemn the applause of his own time, 
and commit his claims to the justice of posterity." 
Now, posterity may be a very upright lady, and 
w De mortuis nil nisi bonum" is a very pretty 
aphorism ; but I much doubt whether, after hav- 
ing quitted this benevolent sphere, I should 
find it, on a spiritual revisit doing justice to a 
" departed shade." Such just reasoning, in so 
young an author, I own, surprised me ; and I was 
inclined to think this apparent indifference to 
fame, and self-confession of poetic faults, was 

* Rasselas, 



Vlil PREFACE. 

assumed : but on resuming the subject a short time 
after, I was convinced of his earnestness ; I there- 
fore possessed myself of his choicest morceaux, 
with the permission to be his hereafter editor. 

The ensuing vacation separated us, but not 
for long ; a week had scarce elapsed since his de- 
parture, when I received a pressing invitation to 
visit Pembroke Hall, the which I accepted* Nor 
had I cause to regret so doing ; for 1 there spent 
the pleasantest time of my whole life. The 
family consisted of the old Squire, his 
daughter Emily, Miss Deborah, his maiden sis- 
ter, and my friend Amos. His elder brother, 
Frank, was with his regiment in India. The 
Squire was one of those good natured beings who 
always look on the sunny side of human nature, 
and make you in good-humour not only with 
them, but, nolens volens, with yourself. Miss 
Emily was a charming, accomplished girl, of 
a sweet fifteen, 5 ' who sang delightfully, and 
played the harp & ravir. My Aunt Deborah was 
what one rarely meets with, an agreeable old 
maid ; an admirable housewife; and into whose 
good graces you were certain to get, by consult- 



PREFACE. 

ing her on the mysteries of pickles and preserves. 
As to my friend Amos, he was the life and soul 
of society ; amusing without effort, and witty 
without affectation. After having passed a most 
delightful month there, we returned to Ox- 
ford, where we studied together the remainder 
of the year, at the conclusion of which, my friend 
set out on a tour through France and Italy, with 
the view of meeting his brother on his return 
from India. 

Our correspondence continued with punctu- 
ality for a period of two years. My friend's let- 
ters were filled with enthusiastic descriptions of 
the countries through which he travelled, of the 
impression made on his mind by the aspect of na- 
ture, both in her grand and sylvan costume, at 
once exemplifying the words of the sweetest 
bard that ever swept lyre : — 

" Nothing is lost on Kim who sees 

With an eye that feeling gave : 
For him there's a story in every breeze, 

And a picture in every wave V 

But he was destined not long to enjoy these 



X PREFACE. 

pleasures. A month had nearly elapsed since I 
last addressed him, and I was anticipating the 
pleasure of a reply, when I received a letter from 
his brother, briefly disclosing the sudden death 
of my young friend, occasioned by a fall near 
the celebrated cascade at Tivoli. To say that 
I felt distressed at the event were feebly to ex- 
press my sentiments. I was sincerely grieved ; 
our early acquaintance, his amiable qualities, 
and promising talent, all tended to encrease my 
regret. 

Some few years have now elapsed since the 
circumstance took place, during which period 
I have often determined on publishing his poems, 
and have as often forsaken the design. At length, 
however, I have " screwed my courage to the 
sticking place," and now send them into the 
world with all their imperfections on their head. 

There are, doubtless, in the collection many 
morceaux which the circumspect reader may at 
first be inclined to condemn ; but the youthful 
age at which they were written, will, I trust, 
soften his severity. 



PREFACE. XI 

The erudite reader, likewise, will discover that 
he has occasionally borrowed from authors in 
other languages besides his own. But his cen- 
sure will considerably abate when he reflect? 
that Mr. L. only followed the example of many 
of his cotemporaries in that respect; as also, that 
the like misdemeanors are, now-a days, regarded 
rather as petty -larcenies than capital crimes ! 

Should, however, the powerful arguments I 
have already adduced fail in disarmingthe critic of 
his severity, I have still one in reserve, which 
I think will excite his leyity, namely : — That the 
author is now alike insensible to his censure or 
applause. It may, however, happen, [and the 
learned Johnson has solemnly asserted that 
" such things" are not improbable], that his ghost 
may hover near the birth-place of Reviews, 
Magazines, etcetera; so, pray let him find the 
world, on his " spiritual revisit," a little more 
charitable than when he left it, and thereby con- 
vince him of the truth of the maxim :— 

De mortals nil nisi bosnim 

R, J. R. 



Xll PREFACE. 

It is necessary to state that, in order to form 
a complete volume, the Editor has taken the 
liberty of inserting some few additional poems, 
part of which are the productions of esteemed 
friends of the Editor, the rest are by the Editor 
himself. 



CONTENTS. 



Page 

To ', with a manuscript copy of the following 

poems 1 

To my lute — ''Say, gentle lute, doyounot feel my hand" 4 

Stanzas — " What means this pleasing melancholy" . 5 

Advice to Julia — " Would you win a worthy heart" . 7 

Song — " I swear I scarce can guide the rein"' . . 8 

Love and Marriage — " Love's a pretty toy, I own" . 9 

To , " Had any other face that frown" . 11 

Song — " When sleep calls my charmer away" . . 13 

Arithmetic — " Sophia, one day, in a fanciful mood" . 15 
Song — " O fie ! pretty dear, quit this whimpering and 

stuff" ....... 17 

Anacreontic — " Alas ! why weeps that tender eye" . 18 

To the moon — " Fair regent of the cloudless sky" . 19 

The E-Ose — " Sweet offspring of the tears of Aurora" 20 

To -, " Fairest idol of my heart" . .21 

To , " Ah ! me, how my heart is as cold as 

the snow" ....... 22 

Ode — " Virgins, be not always coy" . . .23 
To Laura, weeping — " Oh charming nymph of sloe- 
black eye" ....... 24 

L'Embarras du Choix — ' ' My choice would have fallen 

on Kitty" . 25 

Mary — " If reason could the heart control" . . 27 
To Rosa— " Ah, Rosa ! shall thy heart" . . .29 

I he Accusation — " And does my Rosa still adore"' . 50 



VI CONTENTS. 

Epigram — " Unusual pains my bosom move" . . 32 
Song — " O Love ! O soul- distracting boy !" . .33 
Moonlight on the Ocean — " On the deck of the slow- 
sailing vessel, alone" .34 

Henry and Ellen ; a Tale — " The sun had sunk behind 

the hill" 35 

Roslin Castle, a Tale of other Times . . .42 

Epigram — " That a woman can tongueless discourse" 44 

To ■ , " Delicious girl! just turned fifteen" . 45 

Song — " T'other morning I met little Kitty" . . 46 

Chanson — " J'allois chez Hose hier au soir" . . 47 

On Fruits and Flowers, made of Goose Feathers . 49 

Stanzas — " Shall sorrow's tear unpitied fall" . • 50 

Ballad — " Maria, sweet Maria fair" . , . . 51 
Ballad — " True love will never chill" . . . .53 

Stanzas — " The snowy plumage of the swan" . . 54 

Ode to Love — " King of wily dimples, dart" . . 55 

To Eliza — " When o'er that angel face I gaze" . . 56 

Impromptu, To — -, " Thrill' d by the subtle song 

from Julia's lip" ...... 57 

The seven capital sins. ...... 58 

Song — ''Desire! thou tyrant of the heart" . . 63 
Stanzas — " In youth's blooming spring ev'ry chaplet's a 

crown" ........ 64 

The Loves of Henri Quatre and the Fair GabrieJle . 65 
The lucky Fair — " Two wanton Cupids took their 

stands" 82 

Song — " Young Love one day a roving went" . . 83 
Stanzas—" Sweet, on the mountain top" . . .84 

Chanson— "Des refus d'une bergere" . . 85 

Impromptu, To , " The bee of every fragrant 

flower" ........ 86 

Stanzas—" Hastthou ne'er mark'd the languid smile" 87 

To Lydia— -" Say, cruel, couldst thou break a heart"' . 88 

Song-—" Soft is the glow of Summer Gale" . 90 

To , " The young rose that opes to the breeze" 91 



CONTENTS. Vll 

To Airs. , " From whence, Louisa, comes the 

tire" 92 

The Definition--- " In the list of the Gods they place 

Love*' 93 

Romance— " Oh. Selma dear ! let not thy bright tears 

flow" 94 

Serenade—" O soft is the breeze" . . . .95 
Song—" And canst thou, Agnes dear, forget . . 96 
Song—" Sure Love is the dream of the soul'"' . . 97 
Lines written at a Waterfall ..... 99 
To — , sleeping—" In vain, in vain, by sleep you 

strive" * 100 

The Thermometer of Gallantry . . . .101 

The Game of Love— -" With am'rous look and wanton 

air" 102 

To Julia's Pillow—" Reveal, reveal thy tender secrets" 103 

To , "Lady, does it grieve thee, tell me" . . 105 

The Age for Love—-" Fifteen! oh the charming age, 

Kate" 107 

The Rose—" The Rose's age is but a day" . . 108 

To Mrs. Air— " Yes ! I am lost ! by those bright eyes" 109 
Song—" Dear Phillis, lay by all this folly of art" . Ill 
Song—" While in thy sweet bonds I languish" . . 115 

To the Butterfly—-" Little fly, thou merry thing" . 114 

Anacreontique— " Sweet little chicken ! urchin sly" . 116 
Lovers' Vows—" By the smile that plays around thy 

lip" .118 

Ode—" Come, let us pleasure's maze pursue" . .119 
Lines address'd to her bed, by Laura . . .121 

Song—" In vain from thy glances, oh ! beauty, I fly" *119 
Song—" What is the brightest eye that shines ?" . *121 
Eastern Song-—" When last we parted on the shore" 124 
Ballad-—" How sweet were the evenings of love" 125 

Farewell to love— " I feel the transient passion past" 126 
Evening—-" Lo ! Hesper from his coral wave" . . 128 
Paradise Lost-—" Ah ! from truth and love betray'd" 129 



VUl CONTENTS. 

A wish—" Ah ! were it but my happy lot' 5 . . 133 

Friendship—" How blest is he whose happy mind" 134 
Stanzas—" Ye violets droop, thou rose no longer 

bloom" . . . . . . . . . 135 

To a lady—" The rose which boasts so rich a dye" . 137 
Lines— To be engraved on the tomb-stone of an only 

daughter— "Tho' the tree of my life" . . . 139 

Stanzas— "Softly blows the summer gale" . . 140 

The Seasons— A fragment ..... 142 

Sonnet—" Thro' hazel copse oft, studious, let me roam" 144 

Stanzas-—" Those evening bells ! those evening bells" 146 
Farewell to Poesy-—" Adieu, sweet pipe, thy strain is 

o'er" 14& 






POEMS. 



TO 



WITH A MANUSCRIPT COPY OF THE FOLLOWING POEMs. 



YOU may remember, love, one day, 

When on your breast I thoughtful lay, 

You asked what was't engaged my mind. 

And said — " I deem it most unkind, 

" In such a happy hour as this, 

" That you should think of aught but bliss. "- 

I answered quick — u Nay, don't reprove — 

" Nor fancy I am cold to love ; 

" I was but pond'ring what should be 

" The subject of my minstrelsy : 

B 



2 POEMS. 

As you well know that, in my trances, 
I often give Miss Muse some glances ; 
" And as we kiss, compose a sonnet 
a • About it, at it, and upon it V 
" But now, she's ta'en a sober turn : 
" To write an Epic now I burn : 
" So straight at one her skill Pll try \" 
" An Epic? Psha!" was your reply, 
" I hate the gaudy song that flows 
" Naught but metre at the close ! 
te And with equal rage, I hate, 
" Epic pedants lofty prate ! 
" But I love the glowing strain, 
" Wildly rapid, sweetly plain ! 
(i Such as rolPd from Ovid's tongue, 
" Or more sweet Catullus sung ! 
" Besides, the rage for lofty song 
" Is past, among the buying throng : 
" And nothing now but glowing strains 
" Will recompence the Author's pains ! 
" So, if success and gain you'd meet, 
" E'en let your lays be short and sweet \" 
" But, hold ! the Critics J — won't they chide- 
• And whip my muse ?" — I quick replied. 



POEMS d 

•• — And if they should — 'twill do no harm ; 

- For should they style your lays too warm, 
u That very fault for which you're chid, 

u Will with the world act as a charm, 

- Who always read what they're forbid ! 
" Then, if success and gain you'd meet, 

" E'en let your lays be short and sweet !" 

Your sophistry, I scarce need add, succeeded ; 

With me, I fear, it ever will ! 

So, with my am'rous grey goose-quill. 
And Cupid's kind assistance, soon the deed did ! 
Accept the lay — to you its birth it owes : 
Good night — sweet dreams — and soft repose ! 



POEMS. 



TO MY LUTE. 



SAY, gentle lute, do you not feel my hand 

More glowing- with celestial fires, 
When beauty's glances bright the song command, 

When love the thrilling pang inspires? 

Say, feel you not the bounding heart 
Amid your quivering chords to play, 

Panting, a broken sigh impart, 
And tremble thro' the tender lay ? 

Say, do not all my pulses match thy strings, 
When rapture joins, and heavenly Celia sings ? 



POKMS. 



STANZAS. 



WHAT means this pleasing* melancholy, 
What, my soul, can move thee so ? — 

Well I know the pensive folly, 
Yet in vain I boast to know ! 

W r hat can reason's shield, tho' steady, 
Against gentler love prevail ? 

Ah ! I feel his shafts already, 

Wing'd with transports they assail ! 

How my trembling bosom dances, 
How my pulses wildly beat ! 

So divine my angel's glances, 
They can render torment sweet. 

Now, fond hope, celestial warm ! 

Bids me breathe my tender prayer : 
Soon, too soon, the fond alarm, 

Kill'd by scorn and cold despair ! 



POEMS. 

Ah ! sure in Mary's frame excelling, 
Centres, too, a soul complete ; 

Sure in such a heavenly dwelling-, 
Heavenly pity finds a seat. 

Then, a vaunt unquiet trouble, 
Lonely musing, latent care ; 

You but make affliction double, 
Mary's tender as she's fair. 



POEMS. 



ADVICE TO JULIA 



WOULD you win a worthy heart, 
And win to keep it still the same ; 

Use all nature and no art- 
Art can ne'er the breast inflame. 

The rolling eye, the lip demure, 
May catch a fop, a fool, a beau ; 

But native innocence, secure, 

From beauty's shield directs the blow 



POEMS. 



SONG. 



I swear I scarce can guide the rein 
Of all my stubborn passions, 

When Sylvia comes with all her train 
Of fancies, modes, and fashions. 

Camelion-like, she varies still, 
From grace to grace removing ; 

Ah, love ! had Cymon but his will, 
He soon would change his roving. 



TOEMS. 



LOVE AND MARRIAGE. 



LOVE'S a pretty toy, I own ; 
Marriage is a full grown evil : 
Love's a bastard-kind of god : 
Marriage is the very devil ! 
Then, Susan, look not so demure at 
Courtship, which you deem uncivil, 
Kiss, and never mind the curate ! 

Hymen, as the Grecians tell, 
Was a grim torch-bearing fellow ; 
The sullen lamplighter of hell, 
Clad in rags of sickly yellow : — 
Heed not what sage grandames mutter, 
Or what seeming prudes may tell you, 
He often leaves us in the gutter ! 

c 



10 POEMS. 

Cupid, as the Grecians say, 

Was a merry grinning- urchin ; 

Never went to cant and pray, 

Or shew his little nose a church in : — 

Then, prithee, coy one, draw the curtain, 

Nor fear, so pale, you're left the lurch in — 

We have light enough for sporting ! 



POEMS. 11 



TO 



Had any other face that frown, 
I soon would lay my torments down ; 
But so divine each haughty air, 
On that sweet brow a frown is fair ! 

As erst, o'er Eden's blissful hoard, 
Defensive, wav'd the flaming sword ; 
So, guardian scorns stand lowering by 
The precincts of that heav'nly eye ! 

Yet, when the demon tempter (lew, 
Each seraph sentry fled it too ; 
And Adam, on a desert plain, 
Nor pleasure knew, nor lively pain. 

Still bend thy cold disdain on me, 
A lurking smile I fondly see 
Beneath that awful covert laid, 
For love can animate the shade ! 



12 POEMS. 

At least, oh ! let my trembling sense 
Still, hoping*, hang in sweet suspense ; 
Hope may each angry pride remove, 
But fixed despair is death to love ! 



POEMS. 13 



SONG. 



When sleep calls my charmer away. 

And all the bright tumult is o'er, 
1 number the glances she gave, 

I number, and sigh for yet more ! 

How fond the first lover, how blest ! 

No rival could torture or grieve ; 
Of her fears, of her wishes possest ; 

Dear Adam was monarch of Eve ! 

But lo ! when a second drew nigh, 
Tho' Satan himself was to woo, 

The conquest attracted her eye, 
For even the devil made — two! 

Thus, should some gay coxcomb appear, 
My truth and my numbers were vain : 

Not the song of each silver-ton'd sphere 
Could move her to pity my pain ! 



14 POEMS. 

Can I love one so triHingly weak ? 

Can falsehood have beauties to move ? 
My reason refuses to speak, 

But passion gilcb over the sin ! 



POEMS. 15 



ARITHMETIC. 



Sophia, one day, in a fanciful mood, 

Arithmetic wanted to try : 
And as Love's a clever young* Master of Arts, 

He was not at a loss to comply. 

So he gave little Sophy a lesson : 
She play'd very well her own part ; 

It made on her mind such impression, 
That she very soon learnt it by heart ! 

The method he took was quite simple : 
He gave little Soph kisses three, 

Which Sophy returned on the instant, 
Resolv'd from mistake to be free ! 

Of these same kisses given and taken 
Each kept a most rigid account : 

And Love, of the joint calculation. 
Offer'd Sophy the total amount! 



16 POEMS. 

His wonderful progress applauding*, 
To his pupil, the artful young swain, 

Resolv'd not to leave her the lurch in. 
The second rule 'gan to explain. 

He pass'd over it tho' somewhat lightly ; 

To subtract Love is not over fond. 
On the third tho' he dwelt not so slightly ; 

For that was the end of their bond. 

To multiply he was so eager !— 
That to calculate now was in vain ; 

So to give him all without counting, 
Little Sophy found out was most plain ! 



POEMS. 



SONG. 



fie! pretty dear, quit this whimpering and stuffV 
Those eyes were not made to be shadow'd with 

tears ; 

1 love, I adore you, — sure that is enough, — 

So dry up those pearls and smile thro' your fears> 

The jewel you've lost, and affirm I have ta'en, 
And which cost me such pains to procure ; 

Believe me, will never be miss'd by the swain 
Who by wedlock your hand shall secure. 

So dry up your tears, my sweet pretty Fan, 
And rely on this truth, should you wed ; — 

You are not the first girl, since creation began, 
That unjewelVd to church has been led ! 



18 POEMS, 



ANACREONTIC, 



Alas ! why weeps that tender eye, 
Why heaves the passion-freighted sigh t 
Those tears will taint my Delia's breast, 
Those tears disturb thy Damon's rest. 

O let not fickle chance below 
Dash with sad mist thy purple glow ; 
Dispel that pensive frown severe, 
Sure Angels cannot suffer here ! 

The drooping pleasures wait thy glance. 
Again to lead the lively dance ; 
The sullen cares that sentry stand, 
Within thy rosy dimples' cell, 
Aw r ait the absolute command, 
And, pitying, long to bid farewell. 

Then press with ruby lip the glass, 
Let mirth and sprightly frolic pass ; 
The shades of envious grief remove 
That form was made alone for love 



MS. 10 



TO THE MOON. 



Fair regent of the cloudless sky, 
Thy silver tresses, loosely flowing, 

And thy beauty-beaming e^e, 

Set my raptured heart a glowing ! 

Yet, spite of all mad poets say 

About thy charms, profusely panning, 

Thy graces in each sylvan lay, 

With epithets deduced so quaint in :— 

1 do not love thee for thyself, 

Thy amber clouds, thy floating car, 

Thy small minist'ring ouphe or elph, 
I care not half a farthing for :• — 

But when on Susan's breast you shine, 
And lend new radiance to each look : 

Then ? Goddess, you shall gild the line, 
And gleam throughout my fav rite book ! 



20 POEMS. 



THE ROSE. 



Sweet offspring of the tears of Aurora, 
Object of Zephyr's soft embrace ; 

Queen of the empire of youthful Flora, 
Haste and show thy beauteous face. 

Haste ! from thy thorny couch arise ; 

Quick ! expand each glowing- colour ; 
Proud thou must he, since the prize 

Thou bear'st away from ev'ry flower ! 

Go ! on Themire's soft breast expire ! 

Oh let it be thy throne and tomb ! 
Jealous of thy lot, I but aspire 

To the bliss of so sweet a doom * 



POEMS 21 



TO 



Fairest idol of my heart, 

Canst thou still resistless prove ? 
And is hatred's poison'd dart 

Sweeter than the dart of love ? 



22 POEMS. 



TO 



Ah ! me, how my heart is as cold as the snow, 
No more with the pang* of affection to glow : 
No more to catch heat from the fire by thine eye, 
No more to be fann'd to a flame by a sigh. 

Yet you were quite cruel when oft this poor 

heart 
Would throb, beat, and burn with love's fatal 

smart : 
Now in vain you attempt lost desires to restore,, 
The raptures of beauty will charm it no more ! 



POEMS. 23 



ODE. 



Virgins, be not always coy, 

Life is short, and short is joy ; 

Ev'ry hour may send its sweet, 

Grasp at all then that you meet. 

Smallest moments have their sting, 

Unenjoy'd, new cares they bring ; 

But when you pull the lock of Time, 

Soothing with jest, mirth, dance and rhyme, 

He lays his fleeting hour-glass down, 

Nor minds his scythe, on roses thrown, 

Braid your auburn locks, ye fair, 

The myrtle in your garlands wear : 

Lay suspicion's hint aside, 

Give each youth a beauteous bride 

The votaries of love are gay, 

Be blest, be true, be merry while you n 



24 POEMS. 



TO LAURA, 



WEEPING. 



Oh charming nymph, of sloe-black eye, 
Swimming in love's delicious dew ! 

Why softly swells the balmy sigh, 
Which floods of am'rous tears pursue ? 

Why pants the bosom's snowy round ? 

Why are the warblings of that angel tongue 
In sorrow's sullen musing drown'd ? 

Why dim the melting glance, why mute the 
witching song ? 



POEMS, 25 



L'EMBARRAS DU CHOIX. 



My choice would have fallen on Kitty, 
Who scarce fifteen summers has past : 

But Kate's still so shy and so timid, 
My courage, I fear, would not last ! 

This morn, little rosy-cheek'd Fanny 
Told an am'rous tale with her eye ; 

But unluckily Fan is so easy, 

I scarce should have time for a sigh ! 

Now there's Jane, she's both lovely and witty § 
And Pm on good terms with her spouse ; 

But it cools me to think such an angel 
His jealousy cannot arouse ! 

Then there's Sue, who forgets she's no chicken. 
Looks about her in search of a swain: 

But in truth I much fear those old pullets, 
To please 'em one tries all in vain ! 

E 



26 POEMS, 



Now as to that prude, little Emma, 
I like very well her wise looks ; 

But were I to love the Blue Stocking*, 
They'd swear I was partial to books ! 

Now, Martha, methinks, will just suit me : 
A month will have won me a kiss ; 

And sure 'tis the sweetest of dreaming, 
To dream for a month of such bliss ! 



POEMS. 27 



MARY. 



'•' Ah me ! how sweet is love itself possest, 
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy !" 

Shakspeare. 



If reason could the heart controul, 
If memory from itself could fly, 

Pd quench the fire that burns my soul, 
Nor drink the poison from her eye ! 

How often have I vainly sought 

To guard against love's maddening sway, 
But flashing deep into my heart, 

One glance has swept resolve away ! 

Since Reason, then, can ne'er assuage 
Presumptuous reveries like mine, 

Rage on, my soul ! still madly rage, 
And be a fancied Mary mine ! 



2& F.OEM&* 



Long may the fairy vision spread 
Its soothing spell around my mind, 

That joy, itself for ever fled, 

May leave the phantom still behind ! 

And when, at length, this life shall fade, 
And earthly scenes recede in gloom, 

My Mary's fondly cherish' d shade 
Shall light my passage to the tornb ! 



POEMS. 29 



TO ROSA. 



Ah, Rosa ! shall thy heart 

Its tenderness disguise ? 
Or veil that love with art, 

Which radiates from thine eyes ? 

Why, on the lingering night, 
When fancy fondly plays, 

Chid'st thou the soft delight, 
That on thy slumber strays ? 

Shall Prudenee, coldly wise, 
Expression's power controul \ 

And check those swelling sighs, 
That speak th'* impassioned soul i 

No, Rosa, charming maid; 

Ne'er strive from love to ilee ; 
Nor be of that afraid, 

Which blest the world -with thee f 



30 POEMS. 



THE ACCUSATION, 



Amantium irse amoris redingratio est.— Terence, 



And does my Rosa still adore ? 
And is she still the same fond maid ? 
In truth, I fear'd her love was o'er, 
And that from me her heart had stray'd !— 
Nay, Henry, this is most unkind ! 
When didst thou Rosa backward find ? 
The quivering lip, and half drawn sigh — 
The burning cheek, and beaming eye, 
Are signs of love that all may give, 
And all allow or disbelieve — 
But, Oh, ! the proof that I have shown, 
Must surely prove this heart thine own ! 
And well thou know'st, that in my breast, 
Thy much lov'd image is impressed ! — 
Enough, enough — my fears were vain— 
Forgive me, if I've given pain. 



POEMS. 31 



But come, thy reasons, sceptic, own, 
For thinking* that my love had flown ? 
Well then, — methought, the other day. 
As we in am'rous dalliance lay, 
Within the bow'r, on flow'ry bank, 
And on thy breast I, sighing, sank — 
Methought, that as my lips met thine, 
Thy kiss was not so sweet as mine ! 
That as I clasp'd thy sylph-like form, 
Thine own embrace was not so warm 
As when our reign of bliss began, 
And days and years seem'd but a span ! 
But now I own I was to blame ! 
Yes, yes, I see thou art the same, 
And falsehood onlyknow'st byname, 
Yes, yes, I own my happy lot — 
A kiss, my love, and all's forgot ! 



32 POEMS. 



EPIGRAM, 

IMITATED FROM BOILEAU. 



Unusual pains my bosom move ; 
Methinks, dear Kitty, Fm in love : 
You frown !— Soft ;— I am in love 'tis true, 
But, on my honor, not with ym! 



MS, 38 

SONG. 



Love ! O soul distracting boy ! 

1 deem'cl thy bow an idle toy 

With blunted dart ! 
Too soon its force I feel, I know 
Its fatal force — I burn, I glow, 

It tears my heart ! 

From Sappho's eye the poison came ; 
(Cupid and Sappho are the same,) 

With tingling pain ! 
I rave, I weep, I turn, I rise, 
Yet still the conqu'ring torture flies 

Thro' every vein ! 

Ah ! tyrant, amiably unkind ! 

Ah ! fairest face ! Ah ! fellest mind s . 

Thy victim spare. 
Soothe with soft hand his soul to rest 5 
Enfold him in thy balmy breast, 

Elysium share ! 

p 



34 POEMS. 



MOONLIGHT ON THE OCEAN. 



On the deck of the slow-sailing* vessel, alone, 
As I silently sat/ — all was mute as the grave ; 

It was night, and the moon, brightly glittering, 
shone, 
Lighting up, with her lustre, the quivering wave! 

How bewitchingly mellow and pure was the beam 
Which she darted while watching o'er Nature's 
repose ! 
It enchanted my soul like Christianity's gleam, 
As it softens and soothes without chasing our 
woes ! 

And I felt such an exquisite wildness of sorrow, 
While charm'd by the tremulous glow of the 
deep, 

That I long'd to prevent the intrusion. of morrow, 
And stay there for ever to wonder and weep ! 



POEMS. 35 



HENRY AND ELLEN, 

A TALE. 



The sun had sunk behind the hill ; 
The air it was so calm and still 
That you might hear the little rill 

Soft weeping in the grove : 
The parent birds were homeward winging 
To those their tedious absence singing ; 
The village bells were gaily ringing. 

And all was sweet as love : — 
When, near the path that skirts the wood, 
Fair Ellen of the cottage stood, 

Her lover there to meet. 
It was th' accustomed hour of eve, 
When both were wont their cots to leave 

And thither bend their feet. 
Upon her cheek the rose of youth 

The lily of her neck did greet ; 
The sparkling eye, and dimpled mouth, 

Sweet Ellen's picture will complete ! 



36 POEMS. 

The wood-path gained, she gaz'd around : 
'Twas there she hop'd him to have found 

With welcome warm and sweet— 
And, oh ! her grief was great, I ween, 
For no where was he to be seen ! 
She sat her down upon a bank, 
Whose flow'rs the riv'let's waters drank 

Which bubbled near her feet. 

u Ah, me I" the lovely damsel cried, — 
And, as she spoke, she sadly sighed, — 

A tear, too, dimm'd her eye : 
" Ah me \" she cried, " why this delay, 
" Why past the hour does Henry stay V ? 

Then follow'd a deep sigh. 
" He was not wont to be thus late — ■ 
" My heart, alas ! forbodes ill-fate, 

" And trembles with alarm ! 
" No longer can I bear suspense — 
" This instant I will hie me hence 

" To learn the good or harm. 
" In yonder vale his parents' cot 

" Its lowly head uprears ; 



TOEMS. 37 

u Contentment marks their humble lot, 
" And ev'ry moment cheers. 

" I'll thither wend, nor longer stay : 

" The day is fled, far spent the night ; — 
li The moon's cold beam that glitters bright 

(i Will serve to light me on my way." 

The moon, in truth, had just arose, 

Majestic and serene ; 
Its rays had kiss'd the dew-bant rose, 

And slept upon the green ! 

The cottage gain'd — she sudden stopt— 
Her hands, too, from the latch quick dropt ; 
For, 'tween the pauses of the breeze, 
That whistled thro' the poplar trees, 
Which form'd before the cot a screen, 
So that afar 'tcould not be seen ; — 
Fair Ellen heard, or thought she heard, 
Of grief the stifled sobs and groans ; 
While, ever and anon, the bird 
Of evil presage, croaks and moans. — 
Fear, doubt, alarm, successive, sway'd 
The bosom of the trembling maid ; 



38 POEMS, 

Throughout her frame a chillness rang'd, 
As if life's stream had sudden changed 

From warm to icy cold ! 
Nor marvel ye that thus she felt, 

When danger threatened those she lov'd ; 

Compassion she had ever prov'd : 
Sweet Pity's daughter, she would melt 
When sorrow's plaintive tale was told ! 
Again the stifled sobs she hears, 
Confirming all her horrid fears ; — 
Thro' terror bold, the lovely maid 
Upon the latch her finger laid, 
The door upon its hinges creak'd, 
She enter'd, and as sudden shriek'd, 
For, oh ! a picture met her sight, 
Which mocks the poet's strongest flight 
To paint — the limner's skill alone could mark 
The spectacle of that chamber dark ! 
Two aged forms, with knees on ground, 
A lowly couch in tears surround ; 
Beside them lay two infants sweet. 
Whose sobs fair Ellen's ear quick greet 
Some distance off, in grief sunk deep, . 
A lovely damsel loud did weep. 



POEMS. 3 '9-' 

Fair Ellen to the couch drew nigh, 
To learn why thus they grieve and sigh ; 
For whom this sad lament to hear, 
The inmates of the cot to cheer, 
Who to her heart were doubly dear, 

As parents of her love — 
When, oh ! upon that couch she saw 
A sight the savage beast might thaw — 

A corpse lay there, her love ! 
Pale was that cheek, were late was seen 

Health's rosy tint and comely hue ; 
Swoln was that form, whose noble mien 

From ev'ry tongue loud praises drew ! 
Ellen stood motionless — the chilling sight 

Like hemlock on her senses prest ; 
One hollow sigh, 'twas all she might, 

Burst from the bottom of her breast. 
Then rushing forward with loud shriek, 

Herself upon the corpse she threw, 
Kiss'd his cold forehead, lips, and cheek, 

And, thus entwined, her last breath drew ! 

It now befits me to relate 

How Henry met his hapless fate. 



40 POEMS. 

'Twas simply, sadly thus — As home 
He bent his steps from evening's roam, 
Across a slender wooden bridge, 
Which of two mountains joined the ridge 
While down below, a torrent deep 
Onward rushed with impetuous sweep ; 
The sudden cry assailed his ear 
Of one in danger and in fear ; 
And, gazing down, a vestment white, 
By waves environ'd, met his sight. 
Of courage dauntless, heart as bold 
As e'er was form'd in nature's mould, 

Brave Henry forward push'd ; 
And swiftly as the frighted deer, 
When huntsman's horn is loud and near, 

He down the mountain rush'd ; 
And fearless plung'd into the wave, 
[n hopes the maiden's life to save. 
The furious billows just had struck , 
Her hapless head against the rock, 
And deaden'd by the desp'rate shock, 

She sunk to rise no more ! 
Finding all efforts vain to save, 
He left her to her wat'ry grave, 
And sought to gain the she 



POEMS. 41 

In vain he strove to beat aside, 
With sinewy arm, the furious tide ; 
Huge waves on waves his breast assail, 
His strength alas ! begins to fail — * 

He sudden sank — then rose — 
Sweet hope beginning now to fade, 
He one last desp'rate effort made, 

But billows round him close — 
With clasped hands heaven's mercy to implore, 
He quickly sank in waves to rise no more ! 



Whose new grave is that where the violet blows, 
And lilies their snowy heads wave i — 

Tis the tomb of two lovers — fair Ellen the rose, 
And Henry the good and the brave. 



G 



4 V 2 POEMS, 



ROSL1N CASTLE. 



A TALE OF OTHER TIMES. 



Where yon gigantic castle hangs its brow, 
Withering the sun's wan ray with baleful gloom .; 

Full many a gallant soldier sleeps below, 

Full many a dauntless bosom crowds the tomb ! 

There fair Rosalia liv'd, in calm retreat ; 

Whose noble veins the mutual blood contained 
Of Roslin valiant, and the brave Monteith, 

And well her high-born honors she maintained. 

What time with civil feuds sweet Scotland rung, 
And forts embattled rose, to dare the foe, 

A neighboring chief, with rival envy stung, 
Planned many a scheme to lay her glories low. 

Once from her turret's tall, imperial height, 
The death-fraught cannon slew her rival's hind : 

Since when, he long'd to urge the treacherous fight. 
And storm the walls, with peasantry combia'd. 



EM8. 13 

The harvest smiling came — not so ihe band 
Of hostile chiefs ; for as the laborers inowYi 

The lofty corn, and stretch'd on either hand, 
So were their friends along the furrows strew'd. 

O'er their low graves the fertile sod arose ; 

And Ceres oft with purple poppies crown" d 
Each lowly tomb ; and many a wild blown rose, 

With artless scutcheon, marked the scene around. 

There, as the ploughman guides the shining share, 
Shrill targets rattle on the loaded gale ; 

Or ghastly shadows press the blasted ear, 
And sighs, low heav'd, disturb the elfin vale. 

In dreary vision following tribes invade, 
And pant upon the flying shepherds rear : 

Nay, Oberon marshals each invading shade, 
And spirits tell what sprites alone can hear ! 



44 POEM 8. 



EPIGRAM. 



That a woman can, tongueless, discourse, 
And talk pretty plain, I agree : — 

But with one that she can be mute, 
Will never gain credit with me ! 



POEMS. 45 

TO . 



Delicious girl ! just turned fifteen, 

Of rosy cheek and graceful mien ; 

Whose lips, like dew-clad cherries, I devour ; 

Thine is the art to mock old Time, 

Spending- profuse thy vernal prime, 

Well knowing- beauty is a short liv'd flow'r! 

What is that phantom, reputation ? 
Or delicate coquette, Miss Fashion? 
Believe me, sweet, those hig-h born dames, 
Burning in virtue's purgatorial flames, 
Would all their gems and lays resign, 
To boast a bosom white as thine ! 

Nature in thee her sweetest cordial gave 
To recompense for surly death ; 
For who, deep-rev'lling in thy charms, 
Sunk in the sweet elysium of thine arms, 
Thinks ou that dismal den a — grave ? 
No, no, of extacy thou breathing bloom, 
Be thy fond clasp of love the only tomb ! 



46 POEMS. 



SONG. 



T'other morning I met little Kitty ; 

Kate is forty-five if she's not more ; 
But her smile was so coaxing 4 and pretty, 

That it scor'd off one ten of the four ! 

The dear sex at that age is not cruel, 
Especially when no one is nigh : 

I stole from her lips a few kisses, 
Which bid ten more a good bye ! 

A sigh which she heav'd gave me courage ; 

We tremblingly sank on the green : 
I made of her charms such sweet pillage, 

That I thought little Kate but fifteen ! 






CHANSON, 



J'allois chez Rose hier an soir; 

Et quoique charmante, 
On eut pu Pappercevoir 

Triste et languisante. 
Vous croyez, qu 'avec Lucas 
Ce sont de nouveaux debats— 
Non, non, vous ne savez pas 

Ce qui la tourmente ! 

Dans un bosquet, r autre jour, 

La jeune innocente 
A eueillie la fieur d' amour : — ■ 

Mais, trop imprudente, 
Elle tremble d' avoir pris 
Avee la Heur quelques fruits /- 
Et voiia, mes chers amis, 

Ce qui la tourmente f - 



POEMS. 

Deja la lune, dans son cours, 
Lui parait trop lente ; 

Un courrier, depuis trois jours, 
Trompe son attente. 

Mais, chacun peu consterne 

De son sort infortune, 

Lui voudrait avoir donne 
Ce qui la tourmente i 



roEM*. 49 

ON FRUITS AND FLOWERS, 

Made of Goose Feathers. 



Alienos fructos, et non'sfaa poma miratur. 



Thrice happy Goose ! whose painted plumes 

Rival fair Flora's sweet perfumes ; 

And, in rich dies purp ureal drest, 

Recline on Cloe's snowy breast ! 

O ! who could think a goose would prove 

The tender extacy of love ! 

And shine upon that throne sublime. 

Where man presuming* dares not climb ! 

So am'rous, masquerading- Jove, 

Usurped the plumage of the dove, 

Dress'd in the bird of beauty's charms, 

And lay entranced in Leda's arms ! — * 

Some learned critics, by and by, 

" A metamorphosis" ! will cry ; 

And tell, in pompous verse and prose. 

Of Cupid change d into a goose! 



50 POEMS, 



STANZAS. 



Shall sorrow's tear unpitied fall, 

Shall grief unheeded heave the sigh, 

Shall they who languish vainly call. 
Or mis'ry's child un' tended die ? 

Not while sweet woman lingers here — 
That soother of the troubled mind, 

That angel sent from Heav'n to cheer, 
Refine, delight, and tend mankind ! 



POEMS. 



BALLAD. 



Maria, sweet Maria, fair, 
My pleasing- pain, my tender care ! 
How blest, how glad my love-sick mind, 
Could I but call Maria kind, 

Yet ah ! perchance, in some soft dream, 
She views my weeping eyelids stream ; 
Perchance — my drooping* soul be gay ! 
She wipes the falling- tear away ! 

Oh ! may no wealthy suitor stand 
Between my hopes, and claim her hand ; 
No glittering toys her bosom move, 
For I am poor in all — but love ! 

Yet sure, unlike her giddy kind, 
No chains of gold her faith can bind ; 
O ! what is gold, that splendid pest, 
Compared to one ingenuous breast ! 



52 POEMS. 

Nor wants my love a comely air, 
Nor is my breast of science bare ; 
Yet still her cruel thought is free, 
Apollo I, and Daphne she ! 



POEMS. 53 



BALLAD. 



True love will never chill 

Till life depart ; 
Fondness will ever fill 

The faithful heart. 
Absence may for awhile 
Dim fond affection's smile — 
'Tis but the fear of guile 

On lover's heart. 

True love is like the rose, 

Budding in Spring-; 
When Summer comes it blows^ 

And sweets doth bring. 
Bulfoft a cruel wind 
Will its young leaves unbind — 
Thus death, to love unkind, 

Bids life take wing ! 



54 roEMS, 



STANZAS. 



The snowy plumage of the swan 

Silvers the current of the limpid stream ; 

The cooing dove, her fav'rite turtle gone, 
Sighs her sad tale beneath the moonlight 
gleam. 

Yet all in vain they strive to lull my care, 
And bid this wretched bosom still be gay : 

When beauty's fled, no other scenes are fair, 
And joy is past when Mary is away ! 



M6, 5f) 



ODE TO LOVE. 



King of wily dimples, dart 

Thyself into my opening* heart ; 

Let thy temple be my breast, 

Where thou may'st sit in ardour drest; 

My heart, sweet child^ thy purple seat, 

Bid the quickening pulses beat, 

Throb, and pant, and swelling rise, 

Pouring' their vigour through my eyes ! 

So may I the virgins charm, 

And with one glance their frozen wishes warm. 

For w 7 ho a rebel then can prove ? 

Love in mv heart, mvself am Love ! 



56 POEMS. 

TO ELIZA. 



When o'er thy angel face I gaze, 
My passions fix in mute amaze, 
The stealing tears, unbidden, roll, 
And mournful silence swells my soul. 

You speak ! — wild tumults sudden rise, 
Oppress mine heart, inflame mine eyes ; 
Again, the tyrant pangs return ! 
Again, the trembling pulses burn I 

You touch ! — oh, wilder still they rage ! 
Fond hopes, and cold despair engage ; 
Quick colours flush my varying cheek, 
But fade and falter as you speak ! 

Ah ! maid severe, this languid look, 
This blush, when thy bright eyes rebuke, 
These ardent pains, that lawless rove, 
Are sure th' unerring signs of love ! 



POEMS. .37 



IMPROMPTU. 



ON HER SINGING. 



ThrilPd by the subtle song- from Julia's lip* 
I feel the melting- accents sinking deep : 
Like poor Ulysses turn my ear away* 
But catch her glances when I shun her lay ! 



58 POEMS. 

THE SEVEN CAPITAL SINS, 

FROM THE FRENCH. 



Sure, Rosa, you jest — what ! I turn confessor 

To so dear, so enchanting, so sweet an aggressor ? 

To your conscience convey the torch of repen- 
tance, 

And pronounce on your sins a terrible sentence? 

Nay, have I the look, the saint-like appearance* 
Of those reverend men, calPd parsons in com- 
mon ; 

Who with grave air, modest look, and blest ar- 
rogance, 
Presume to establish themselves judges of wo- 
men ? 

No, no ! and yet, when I ponder, methinks there 
exists, 

In one way a likeness between me and those 
priests : — 

When with flushed cheek, downcast eyes, and 
meek air, 

A sweet penitent to the stall doth repair, 



[•OEMS. 

To confess those dear sins by prudes ternrd most 
sad ; 

But which you and I think by no means so bad ! 

Oft, at the tale of those pleasures, which, blush- 
ing*, they own, 

Their cold bosoms melt, and quick yield to the fire, 

Which shoots through their frame the sweet re- 
bel desire ; 

And at heart they approve, and partake of the sin : 

Yes, dearest, I own, though undeserving of 
grace, 

I should do just the same were I in their place ! 

But jesting apart — 'tis your wish — I obey, 
Though, in truth, Fm a novice at this sort of 

play ! 
Now prepare — the wicket opens — to pride art 

thou prone ? 
Entre nous, pretty rogue, I will candidly own 
I think that you are — for, with beauty like yours, 
Which both love and fond admiration secures ; 
With that sylph -like form, and that bright 

beaming eye, 
Where a thousand young Cupids nestle so sly— 



60 POEMS. 

No wonder young damsels like you should inhale 
That incense which scarce e'er was heard of to 

fail! 
But this sin I forgive, since dame Nature's to 

blame, 
Far having ordained you so angelic a frame : — 
And 'tis ugliness only that ought to feel shame. 

To proceed — of Avarice art thou the slave ? 
You blush!— well you may — good reason you 

have— 
'Tis indeed a most sad, a most culpable sin ! 
A crime which scarce can hope forgiveness to 

win. 
Useless possessor of love's gifts, be assured, 
You will answer the bliss you might have secured. 
But cheer up, sad rogue — we are led to believe 
True repentance will every error reprieve. 

To proceed — for Gluttony hast any taste? 

I can't tell — but love in a whisper declares, 
That when he constructed that mouth pure and 
chaste, 

£[e design'd it to enjoy far more delicate fare ! 



POEMS. 01 

If sometimes to Anger you have given way, 
No doubt some bold lover 'twas, tired with delay, 
Strove to rifle those favours you wish'd to reserve 
For one whom you thought did them better deserve. 
In truth, love, such anger was somewhat unjust: 
If your beauty and smiles created his lust, 
Was the fond youth to blame, if by chance he 

forgot 
What to virtue is due ? — in truth he was not. 
So, in future, beware, — and conceal those bright 

charms, 
Or yield yourself up to a fond lover's arms. 

From base Envy I'm certain your soul is quite 
free : 
For who, unequalFd in beauty and wit as thou 
art, 
Could cause you to feel a spark e'en of jealousy ? 
'Tis your rivals alone that are stung with her 
smart. 
There next comes a sin, less frightful than any ; 

To which 111 avow I fear you are prone : 
A sin of which more than one pretty Fanny 
Between two white sheets is oft guilty alone ! 



6jpl POEMS. 

Nay blush not, my dear, nor your eyes downward 
bend, 

Let not modesty think I wish to offend. 

'Tis Idleness, love, of which I now speak: 

To correct yourself of it, I prithee, don't seek. 

~Tis a sin that young damsels may with ease be 
forgiven ; 

And I'll warrant it will not exclude them from 
heaven. 

So, if, just at day-break, the soft breath of love 
Should whisper sweet dreams about bliss and 
— —all that ; 

For humanity's sake, may such dreaming re- 
prove, 
And inspire you with taste for real bliss and 
all that ! 

And now, love, my task is almost completed ; 
Six of the seven sins we have repeated : 
There yet remains one, of all the most charming ! 
Which, should it chance your breast to be warming, 
I not only forgive, but, in favour of it, 
Excuse all the others vou confess to commit ! 



POEMS 1 : 63 



SONG. 



Desire ! thou tyrant of the heart, 
O'er the subject passions swaying: 

Bitterest sweet ! delicious smart ! 

With pangs in cruel mockery playing. 

From this sad heart, the seat of woe, 
From this sad breast, fond God, remove ; 

O bid unblissful sorrow flow, 
Or let me taste unpainful love ! 



04 POEMS, 



STANZAS. 



In Youth's blooming Spring ev'ry chaplet's a 

crown, 
Ev'ry rose a rich sceptre, and green turf a throne ; 
The break of a cloud can new raptures dispense, 
And the fall of a rill lull each too-feeling sense ! 

But in Age's hoar Winter, each gale is a storm ; 
Each chill air a blight to the tottering form : 
And the frown of the sky, and the sunshiny ray, 
Are accounted the treacherous tricks of the day ! 



POEMS. OS 



THE LOVES OF HENRY QUATRE AND 
THE FAIR GABRIELLE. 



Imitated from the Ninth Canto of Voltaire's Henriade. 



On fair Idalia's blest and favor' d shore, 
Where Europe's climate with the Asian blends, 
An antique palace its proud head uprears, * 
By Nature founded, and unhurt by Time. 
Adorning* Art the simple structure grac'd, 
And boldly toiling-, Nature's work surpass'd. 

* This description of the Temple of Love, and the painting 
of that passion personized, are entirely allegorical. The 
scene of action is placed in Cyprus, as Rome is made the 
abode of policy ; because the people of the isle of Cyprus 
have in all eyes been supposed most addicted to Love, just 
as the Court of Rome has had the reputation of being the 
most politic court in Europe* 

Love ought not then to be here considered as the Son of 
Venus, and a God of Fable ; but as a representation of the 
most violent passion of the human breast, with all its accom- 
panying pleasures and torments. 
K 



66 POEMS. 

There the gay fields, by blooming* myrtle crown'd. 
Hoar winter's withering storms have never felt ! 
Pomona there the trees with fruit overloads, 
And Flora's gifts are scattered all around ; 
The earth, her golden crops to yield, nor waits 
The Seasons' order, nor the pray'r of man. 
Mortals seem there t'enjoy, in peace profound, 
All that sweet Nature, when the world was born. 
Upon the human race, beneficent, conferr'd ;— 
Eternal ease, days undisturbed and pure, 
All that in primeval time was known, 
Is there possess'd — save Innocence alone ! 
The only sounds that there disturb the air, 
Are syren concerts, which the soul entrance, 
A thousand youths their tuneful voices raise, 
And sing their own and mistress's disgrace. 
There, deck'd with crowns of ev'ry budding 

fiow'r, 
They beg the favors of the smiling God, 
Around the shrine with emulation crowd, 
To gain perfection in the art to please. 
Cajoling Hope, with calm, unclouded brow, 
To Love's bright Temple leads each am'rous band 
Half-naked Graces round the altar skip, 



i'OEWS. Oy 

And time their dances with their syren pipes ! 

Voluptuousness, contented and resigned, 

On mossy bank reclines, and lists their songs. 

Mystery in silence next the view descries, 

Enchanting Smiles, Address, and Complaisance, 

Gay, amorous Pleasure, and soft Desire, 

Than Pleasure more seducing, far more sweet ! 



* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 


* 



'Tis even there that Love has fix'd his reign. 

This tender, cruel, and capricious child 
Bears in his feeble hand the fate of earth, 
And with a smile dispenses peace or war, 
In ev'ry region fraudful art exerts, 
Enlivens all, and reigns in ev'ry breast. 
From his bright throne his conquests he surveys, 
And makes a footstool of the haughtiest heads ; 
He seems to glory in his cruel deeds, 
And smiles upon the wounds his dart inflicts ! 

By Rage conducted, Discord thither flies, 
And clears, thro' Pleasure's frighted throng, her 

way. 
In each infernal hand a torch she bore : 



68 POEMS. 

Her eyes flashed fire, her front was smear'd with 

blood. 
" Brother/' she cried, " where are thy dreaded 

« shafts? 
" For whom dost thou reserve thy fatal darts ? 
u Ah ! if, lighting- Discord's brand, thy rage 
" With my fell poison thou hast ever mix'd ; 
" If e'er for thee sweet Nature I have rack'd, 
<c Haste — follow Discord and redress her wrongs • 
" A conquering Monarch tramples on my snakes, 
" And weaves the olive with the laurel crown ; 
" Towards Paris' ramparts Henry's armies bend; 
w Henry shall fight, shall vanquish, and forgive ! 
" 'Tis thine to stop this torrent in its course ; 
i( Go, blast the laurels on his haughty brow, 
" With am'rous myrtle now his temples bind, 
" And lull his warlike spirit into rest. 
" Haste — my tottering kingdom to sustain — 
" Hence, Love ! the cause of Discord is thy own!" 

Thus spoke the monster — the trembling vaults 
around 
Echoed the accents of her hideous voice ! 
The list'ning God, on flow'ry couch reclin'd, 
Her furious harangue answers with a smile ! 



POEMS. no 






Forthwith with golden shafts himself he arms, 
Cleaves the blue vaults of Heaven's wide expanse, 
And, the Smiles and Graces sent on before, 
On Zephyr's silken wings to Gallia flies. 

In his swift course, his eye perchance perceives 
Drain'd Simois' flood, and Troy's now vacant seat ; 
A smile, while gazing, on his lips arose, 
Which told he gloried in his own bad deeds. 
At distance he beholds, with ravish' d sight, 
Proud Venice' ramparts from the deep arise, 
Her guardian Neptune's greatest pride and care ! 
He now descends on sweet Sicilians plains, 
Where he Theocritus had erst inspired, 
And simple, tender Virgil taught to sing ; 
Where, too, 'tis said, by channels new, he led 
Of am'rous Alpheus th' untainted stream, * 
Thence, quitting Arethusa's lovely shore, 

* Alpheus was a river in Arcadia, which is feigned to 
have been conducted, by a submarine channel, from Pelo- 
ponnesus to Sicily ; or, protected by Cupid, to have passed 
through the waters of the sea, without mixing with them, in 
order to gratify his love for the fountain of Arethusa, which 
rises near Syracuse. 



7<3 POEMS. 

To Valliclausa's plains his course he bends. 
Scenes of delights, where in his blissful days, 
• Ill-starr'd Petrarch his hopeless passion sung!* 
Next Anet's tow'rs attract his ravish'd sight,t 
[Himself the sumptuous edifice had raised j 
By his ingenious hand with cunning traced, 
Of Dianas name the cyphers still remain ; 
The Loves and Graces, as they gaily pass'd, 
With fresh cull'd flow'rets her cold tomb adorn'd. 

At length Love gains sweet Ivry's verdant plains : 
The King, intent upon some fresh exploit, 
Mingling' war's image with the sports of peace, 
Gave to its deafening' voice a short repose. 
A thousand warrior youths with him pursue 

* What reader of taste and feeling is ignorant of, or has 
not dropped the tear of sympathising tenderness over the 
sufferings of the unhappy, the accomplished, the faithful 
Petrarch, and the beautiful, the virtuous Laura ! — Vaucluse, 
the retreat in which he indulged his impassioned muse, is 
near Gordes in Provence ; where is yet seen the remains of 
a building called the house of Petrarch. 

+ Anet, near the plains of Ivry, was built by Henry II. 
for Diana de Poictiers, whose cyphers were impressed on 
every ornament of the chateau. 



POEMS. 71 

savage inmates of the woods and dells. 
At sight of him Love feels a wicked joy ; 
Me whets his arrows, and prepares his chains. 
Obedient to his call, the western winds 
With humid wings the darkened skies obscure : 
Night's horrid gloom succeeds day's splendor 

bright, 
And groaning Nature owns the pow'r of Love I 

Lost in the mazes of the humid plain, 
The King, uncertain, roves without a guide ;, 
Just then did Love, kindling his fatal torch. 
Display this wonder to the Monarch's sight. 
Alone deserted in these gloomy woods, 
He follows where the treach'rous meteor lead^ 
Thus oft the way-worn traveller pursues 
Those brilliant lights from earth exhaled. 
Those lights, whose roving and malignant flame- 
Leads to the abys's brink and then goes out ! 

Fortune to these deep shades had lately led 
A beauteous maid of hig^h and noble race. 
Immur'd within a castle's tranquil walls, 
Far from war's din, her sire she did await. 



72 POEMS, 

Who old in war, and true to virtues' laws, 
Great Henry's band had followed to the field. 
D'Estree her name, on whom, with lavish hand,* 
Nature her rarest choicest gifts had pour'd. 
Such ne'er were equalled by the guilty maid, 
Who caus'd the downfall of ill-fated Troy. 
Less amiable, less brilliant was that dame, 
Who Rome's illustrious master held in chains ; 
When those who dwelt by silver Cydnus stream, 
Bearing sweet incense, her for Venus took.f 

* Gabrielle D'Estree was of an ancient house in Picardy. 
She was the daughter and grand-daughter of Grand Masters 
of the artillery. She married the Chevalier de Liancourt, 
and was afterwards Duchess de Beaufort, &c. Henry fell 
in love with her during the civil wars ; he sometimes stole 
from his army in order to visit her — one day he even dis- 
guised himself like a peasant, passed through the enemy's 
guards, and waited upon her at the hazard of being taken 
prisoner. 

f Cleopatra, on going to Tarsus, where Anthony had 
sent for her, made the voyage in a vessel shining with gold 
and adorned with the finest paintings ; the sails were of 
purple, and the cordage of silk and gold. She was repre- 
sented as Venus, and her attendants as Nymphs and Graces, 
with several beauteous children as Cupids playing around her. 



POEMS. 73 

She then approach 'd that frail and tempting- age, 
When passions sway the soul with lawless rule. 
Her soft and generous heart, though born to love, 
No lover's vows had ever yet receiv'd. 
Thus the sweet rose-bud in the early spring, 
Does not at once its beauties all disclose, 
Its treasures from the am'rous winds conceals, 
And only opes to Summer's kinder rays ! 

Love, who had early fix'd this maiden's doom, 
In borrow'd name her peaceful dwelling seeks ; 
His torch, his bow, and quiver thrown aside— 
The voice and figure of a child put on: 
u I saw," cried he, " from yonder sea-beat shore, 
" Mayenne's great victor hither bend his steps." 
Whilst thus he spoke, her youthful breast he 

pierc'd, 
And with unknown desires her heart possessed. 

In this manner she proceeded along the river Cydnus, the 
oars keeping time to the most beautiful music. Thus dis- 
guised, all the people of Tarsus took her for a real Goddess 
— they quitted Anthony's tribunal, and ran to see her; that 
Roman himself went to meet her, and became desperately 
in love. — Plutarch. 
L 



74 poems. 

Love, as he saw new charms her face adorn, 
Bestowed loud praises on his cunning art. 
"With such attractions conquest's mine, he cried f 
And to the monarch led th* angelic maid. 
The simple art with which her form he cloth'd, 
To eyes seduc'd the work of Nature seems. 
Her golden locks which wanton' d with the breeze, 
Now hid from view her lovely breast of snow, 
And now expos'd it to the ravish'd sight ! 
Bright shone in native modesty the maid : 
Not that harsh rigor which the loves despise r 
But that soft virtue, innocent and meek, 
Which paints the visage with a tint divine ;■■ 
Inspires respect, the passions strong excites, 
And serves to fan the favoured lover's fire ! 
He does still more — (what cannot Love atchieve!) 
His charms diffuse enchantment all around. 
Here, from the bosom of th' obedient earth, 
The blooming myrtle shoots its branches forth, 
And round the place its twining foliage spreads. 
Scarce there, arrested by some secret spell, 
Perplex'd, yet pleasM, we cannot quit the spot. 
Beneath a willow glides a lovely stream ; 
Here youths, by kind, consenting beauty blest, 



I'OEMS. /*J 

Drink plenteous draughts their duty to forget. 
Love's fatal power by all around is own'd ! 
All speak of love — The birds on ev'ry spray 
Increase their amorous kisses and their songs ! 
The ardent reaper, who at break of day 
Flies to the field to crop the ripen'd corn, 
Unquiet stops, and utters ponderous sighs, 
His breast's astonished at his new desires ! 
He stands, enchanted in the lovely scene, 
And, sigking, leaves his fields uncropt. 
Meanwhile the Shepherdess her flock forsakes, 
And near him, trembling, drops her crook ! 
Against a power so great what could D'Estree ? 
A charm unconquerable led her on ; 
She had to combat on that fatal day 
Her youth, her heart, a Hero, and a God ! 

Great Henry's valor, never made to yield, 
To glory's path did oftimes him recal ; 
But still an unseen pow'r his feet detains ; 
In vain on former virtue did he lean ; 
Virtue forsakes him, and his spell-bound soul 
By beauteous D'Estree is alone possess'd ! 

The happy Genius that o'er France presides, 



76 POEMS. 

His dang'rous absence did not long* permit 
At Louis' call he left his realms above, 
And came on rapid wing* to Henry's aid. 

When on our hapless sphere he did alight, 
He look'd around a virtuous sage to find ; 
He sought not in those reverend, classic domes, 
Sacred to study, to science, and to youth. 
To Ivry's camp the heav'nly pow'r repairs, 
Where conquest made the boisterous soldier vain ; 
His flight divine the watchful angel stay'd 
Where Calvin's banners floated in the wind. 
There Mornay he addressed. Thus to instruct 
Man's feeble mind, did Reason oft descend ; 
Thus did she guide, among' the Pagan race, 
The good Aurelius and the Grecian sage. 
No less a prudent friend than sage austere, 
Mornay knew how to chide and not offend : 
His conduct better than his precept bhew'd 
That solid virtues were his sole delights. 
Eager in toil, uncaught by pleasure's bait, 
He fearless march'd where danger most was 

found. 
The air of court, and its infected breath, 
His heart's stern purity could ne'er debase. 



toems. 7/ 

Thus Arethusa's tranquil wave rolls on, 
And into furious Amphitrite's gulf 
Conveys a pure, unsullied, placid stream, 
Which ocean's briny current ne'er corrupts. 

By wisdom guided, generous, brave Mornay 
Quick sped to Beauty's bow'r, whose secret spells 
Held in her soul-delio-htinof arms enclosed 
The fate of France, the conqu'ror of mankind ! 
Each moment, bringing with it some new bliss, 
Strengthened his chains, and more obscurM his 

fame ; 
Pleasure, whose reign is oft of durance short, 
Fill'd all his moments, brighten'd ev'ry hour. 
Ere long the God of Love with rage observ'd 
Brave Morney, and stern Wisdom by his side ; 
Thinking his heart to charm, he quick let fly 
A vexigeful shaft against the warrior's breast ; 
But he, despising both his ire and spells, 
Beheld the dart glance, pointless, from his shield ; 
With anxious fear his much-lov'd monarch sought, 
And view'd with scorn those places of delight. 

Amid these groves, beneath a myrtle's shade, 
Near which a streamlet murmur'd softly by, 



78 POEMS. 

D'Estree with lavish charms her lover bless'd, 
Who in her arms entranced, enraptured lay ! 
Their blissful converse grew— not ever dull ; 
Their glistening- eyes w r ere filPd with happy tears, 
With those sweet tears which lovers only know : 
In mutual extacy their moments fly ; 
In transports, which such hearts alone can feel, 
Which Love alone can give, or can describe ! 
The wanton Pleasures, in this peaceful spot, 
And playful Cupids, Henry's arms unbound. 
One held his cuirass, still with gore distain'd ; 
Another had detach'd his pond'rous sword, 
And laugh'd exulting that his hand could wield 
The throne's support and terror of mankind. 



At length, within these wanton groves, the 

^King 
Beheld Mornay approach : — he saw, and blush' d ! 
In secret each the other's presence fear'd. 
The Sage approach' d the King in silent grief : 
But e'en that silence, and his downcast looks, 
The purpose of his soul to Henry told. 
On that stern brow, with heavy grief o'ercast, 



POEMS, 70 

He read, with ease, his weakness and his shame. 
(From minds less gen'rous, what might Mornay 

dread, 
How few a witness of their fault can bear !) 
iC Fear not my anger, best of friends," he cried, 
(i Who teaches me my duty, can't offend. 
" Thy monarch's heart 's still worthy of thy care i 
" 'Tis done — thou hast restor'd me to myself ! 
" Returning- virtue all my soul pervades. 
" Quick, let's fly this spot, where my revolting 

heart 
" Still loves the bonds by which it was confined ! 
" Self-conquest still the greatest glory yields, 
" Let's hence and brave this God in glory's arms : 
" And soon towards Paris spreading terror wide, 
u In Spanish blood Pll cleanse my sullied fame V' 

This noble speech Momay's great lord pro- 
claimed — 
<c 'Tis you/' he cried, " I see my King restor'd, 
u France's defender, and conqu'ror of himself ! 
"Love to your glory adds a lustre new, 
u Bless'd those who shun him, who subdue him 
great !" 



80 POEMS. 

He said : — the King prepares those shades to 
quit, 
But oh ! how his heart at the departure bled ! 
To leave the syren whom he still adored ! 
Tears, which his soul condemned, bedew'd his 

eyes. 
By Mornay hurried on — by Love led back, 
He went, returned — then vanished in despair ! 
He fled. — Scarce had his feet the bow'r left, 
When Gabrielle, fainting*, senseless fell to earth ! 
A sudden mist o'ercast her beauteous eyes — 
Love, who perceived her, uttered a loud shriek ! 
Terror pervades him, lest an eternal night 
Should rob his empire of so fair a nymph ; 
Deface the beauties of the matchless maid, 
That might in France have kindled many a flame ! 
He takes her in his arms, and on her calls ; 
She hears, and opes once more her languid eyes, 
Calls on her lover — but, alas, in vain ! 
" He's gone/' she cried — then sank in death's em- 
brace. 

His stern severity maintaining still, 
Mornay, meanwhile, his troubled lord led on. 



POEMS. SI 



Virtue and fortitude their path point out ; 
Glory, with laurel crown'd, their steps precedes : 
And angry Love, by duty overcome, 
From Anet flies, his rage and shame to hide. 



82 POEMS* 



THE LUCKY FALL. 



Two wanton Cupids took their stands 

In the large orbs of Lucy's eyes— 
A third, with supplicating hands, 

To gain admission vainly tries. 
Fiercely they thrust the rogue away — 

When lo ! on Lucy's breast he fell ; 
And nestling there, I heard him say, 

" Thanks, friends ! this suits me quite as 
well !" 



poems. 83 



SONG. 



Young Love one day a roving went, 
Arm'd with his little bow and dart; 
Through grove and copse his course he bent, 
In hopes to find some rebel heart ; 
But after straying many hours, 
He found his courage wotrid not keep ; 
So, nestling in a bed of flow'rs, 
The little urchin fell asleep. 

It chanc'd that in that very grove, 
Three blooming damsels sportive lay,™ 
< Ah ! ah !' said they, 4 'tis Mister Love! ? 
So, vengeful, stole his dart away. 
The urchin woke — the theft perceiv'd : 
Quoth he, c 'Tis vain ! though thus bereav'd, 
Dost think my povv'r to brave ? Poor hearts ! 
Those eyes are worth a thousand. darts!' 



84 POEMS, 



STANZAS.. 



Sweet, on the mountain-top, at dewy eve, 

Endymion-like, to woo the silver grace 

Of the clear heavens, when all dim vapours 

leave 
Th' unspotted radiance of her peerless face ! 

Sweet, too, with slow and silent step, to trace 
The mossy haunt, whence, breathing dear de« 

light, 

The stock-dove soothes the melancholy night, 
And consecrates to song her favour'd place ! 

But, oh ! far sweeter the extatic charms 
To catch soft influence from my Laura's eye ! 
To hear Love's voice in each ambrosial sigh,, 
And fold Elysium in her yielding arms ! 



POEMS. 85 



CHANSON 



Des refus d'une bergere 

II ne faut pas s'alarmer ; 
~Si la belle est trop severe, 

11 est aise de changer! 
Languir est un folie ; 

L'amour est un vrai tournient ; 
Pour etre heureux dans la vie, 

II faut r/aimer qu r un moment I 

Rosa, Corinne, et Julie, 

Ont eu mes vceux tour-a-tour ; 
Je suis ne sans jalousie, 

Et mon cceur est sans detour. 
J'offre en tous lieux mon hommage, 

Fruit de ma sincerite ; 
C'est comme un droit de passage 

Que je paye a la beaute ! 



S6 POEMS. 



IMPROMPTU. 

TO . 

9 

On her approaching a Vase of Flowers, where some Bees 
were sucking. 



The bee of ev'ry fragrant flow'r 
Loves most the rose to sip : — 

Then, prithee, Julia, quit the bowV, 
They may mistake thy lip i 



POEMS 



STANZAS. 



Hast thou ne'er mark'd the languid smile 
That o'er the lip of sorrow plays, 

When forced joy, in borrow'd guile, 
The rising sigh of anguish stays ? 

E'en such the smile my Ellen wore, 
E'en such the look she gave, 

Her father's tomb when bending o'er, 
I stood beside the grave ! 



SS POEMS. 



TO LYDIA. 



Say, cruel, couldst thou break a heart 
To thee, to love, to friendship sworn ; 

Could'st thou, to all who smiles impart, 
Bid him, who feels affliction, mourn ? 

The tender tear, the heaving sigh, 

That breathes, unfeign'd, th'impassion'd soul, 
Must call compassion to thine eye, 

Must thy forbidding tongue control. 

Ah ! didst thou feel but half my woe, 

Thou wouldst not mock the woundsyou gave; 

The tears for pity's sake that flow, 
Distinguish but the fair and brave. 

Oft, penitent, I scorn thy love — 
Thy love attended with such pain ; 

But soon the sullen clouds remove, 
My rebel heart adores again ! 



POEMS, S9 



My rebel heart usurps the sway, 
And makes the dreary vision die, 

Bids Henry weep when you are gay, 
And when you smile on others, sigh ! 



N 



90 POEMS, 



SONG. 



Soft is the glow of summer gale 
As stealing thro' th' enamell'd vale ; 
And pleasing is the shade's retreat, 
Hid from the sun's meridian heat :— 

Still more pleasing — far more sweet, 
Is the smile when lovers meet! 

Sweet is the breath of dawning morn, 

And bright the dew-drops on the thorn ; 

And joyful is the choral lay 

Of mingling birds upon each spray : — 
Still more pleasing — far more sweet, 
Is the smile when lovers meet ! 



POEMS. 9L 



TO 



Omnia yincit amor, et noscedamus amori.— -Virg. 



The young rose that opes to the breeze, 
The waves that yon green hillock kiss, 
The Zephyr that fondles the trees, 
All tell that to love is a bliss ! 
Of two lovers the equal affection 
Increases their joy as they woo ; 
The insensible have but one soul, 
While they that adore possess two ! 



92 POEMS. 



TO MRS. 



From whence, Louisa, comes the fire, 

That in my bosom glows ? 
That thus, awakening fond desire, 

Forbids my soft repose ? 

Is it those eyes so keenly bright ? 

Those cheeks of roseate hue ? 
That bosom swelling with delight, 

To love and nature true ? 

Is it (for which a saint might sigh, 
Which stoic hearts would warm, 

And give delight to every eye), 
That love-inspiringybm ? 

Oh, no ! 'tis neitherybrm nor Jace, 

That thus enchants my soul : 
What heart alone could give such grace ?- 

The charm is in the whole ! 



POEiMS. 93 



THE DEFINITION. 



In the list of the Gods they place Love ; 

Long time I believ'd in the fable. 
But now Kate has setjire to my heart. 

To assert 'tis a Devil — Fm able ! 



94 POEMS. 



ROMANCE, 



Oh, Selma dear ! let not thy bright tears flow, 
For glory now thy charms I must resign : 

Yet, while I rush to meet my country's foe, 
This heart in life or death shall still be thine. 

Farewell, Selma! 

Then weep not thus — see yonder is the bow'r, 
Where oft in bliss so fondly have we met ;— 

Oh ? beauty ! there's such magic in thy pow'r, 
That still around thee must I linger yet. 

Farewell, Selma! 

The thunder hurtles in the darkening sky, 
Like battle's fury pealing from afar ! — 

But droop not though the parting hour is nigh, 
7 Tis freedom's voice impels me to the war. 

Farewell, Selma! 



POEMS. 95 



SERENADE 



Oh soft is the breeze in the valley that blows, 
And sweet is the fragrance that springs from 

the rose : 
And bright is the star that illumines the sky, 
Yet brighter the radiance that beams from thine 

eye ! 
Then, prithee, awake, and haste to the bow'r; 
Love seems to reign sole monarch of the hour ! 

Oh hasten thy roseate slumbers to break ; 
For clear shines the moon on the smooth sil- 
ver lake ; 
And pure is the breath of slow-dawning morn, 
And bright are the dew-drops that hang on 

the thorn ! 
Then, prithee, awake, and haste to the bow'r, 
Love seems to reign sole monarch of the hour ! 



96 POEMS 



SONG. 



And canst thou, Agnes dear, forget 

Thy tender vows of love, 
When oft at even we have met 

Within the myrtle grove : 
When seated on sweet flowery bank, 

By murm'ring streamlet's side, 
You on my bosom sighing sank, 

And frowning fate defied ! 

The quiv'ring lip, the half-drawn sigh, 

Bespoke my passion true ; 
And as I caught thy beaming eye, 

Methought I lov'd was too ! 
But ah ! false girl, too late I find 

My love was unrequited ; 
And that you only then were kind, 

To view my hopes now blighted. 



POEMS. 



SONG. 



Sure love is the dream of the soul, and the forms 
That win to deceive, make the fond bosom 
know 
That the heaven of Love has its clouds and its 
storms, 
And oceans of bliss have their billows of 
woe ! 
Like the music's soft notes that in aether are 
bred, 
Which die on the gale where their sweetness 
is born ; 
Like the visions the twilight of fancy has shed, 
Which fade at the radiance of Reason's 
bright dawn. 

The phantoms that float on Night's bosom so 
dark, 
But lure to beguile, and but lull to disarm ; 



98 POEMS, 

And the Siren that sings round the mariner's 
bark, 
Will shipwreck his hopes if he list to her 
Charm ! 
O woman ! dear woman ! heaven's loveliest 
Creature ! 
Thine eye that is melting with rapture de- 
ceives, 
And the music of beauty that plays in eacli 
feature, 
But softens to burst the fond heart that be- 
lieves ! 



P0F3IS. 99 



LINES WRITTEN AT A WATERFALL. 



Trace we now the torrent tide 
Tow'rd yon dark steep's craggy side ; 
At the dread verge one moment stays its flight, 
Then flashing headlong on the light : 
The dizzy summit plunging past, 
It heaves its thunders to the blast ! 

From rock to rock recoiling, still the stream 
Wakes in its downward course a foamy gleam ; 
Till hush'd at length, its billows all subside, 
And gently steals the unmolested tide. 
O'er spring-enamour'd plains pursues its way, 
And vales made fertile by its fost'ring sway ; 
Reflects the beauties that its waters lave, 
And heav'n's bright features dancing on its 
wave. 

Such is the wearied spirit's last repose ; 
The sweet oblivion of a life of woes. 
Each anguish flown-- forgotten every care, 
And life and rapture dawning on despair ! 



100 POEMS. 



TO , 



SLEEPING. 



In vain, in vain, by sleep you strive 

To grant some interval of woe ; 
Your beauties are awake, alive, 

And still more certain aim the blow ! 
What tho' the tyrant eye is closed, 

The sweet envermeil'd cheeks remain ; 
What tho' the snowy arm's repos'd, 

Throbs not thy bosom's purer vein ? 

In vain th' artillery of your charms 

With pitying care you wish to hide, 
Asleep— some god exerts your arms, 

And sylphs the slumb'ring graces guide ! 
Ah me ! how hard my hopeless fate, 

Still changing to extremes of grief ; 
Then with full glow my passion sate, 

Superior pain may lend relief ! 



POEMS. 101 



THE THERMOMETER OE 
GALLANTRY. 



Dear women we ought to adore 

From budding fifteen to blown twenty; 
At twenty-five love them — no more — 

Sure that they must own is quite plenty ! 
Yet still on their favours set store, 

From warm twenty-five to calm thirty ; 
Esteem them at cold thirty-four, 

And respect them profoundly at forty ! 



10 c 2 POEMS. 



THE GAME OF LOVE. 



With am'rous look, and wanton air, 
Young Lubin frolick'd with his fair 

Within the myrtle grove : 
'Twas Cupid led them to the spot; 
And trust, he them full well had taught 

The charming game of love ! 

Anon the wicked little boy, 
Resolv'd they should have ample joy, 

Between their legs sly ran : — 
Young Lubin fell — and so did Jane- 
Love smiled to see their well-feign'd pain ! 
He lingered still — nor was't in vain ; 
He saw the game quite done ! 



POEMS 108 



TO JULIA'S PILLOW. 



Reveal, reveal thy tender secrets 

Pillow, by my Julia prest, 
Plumage of Love, down of cygnet, 

Or of Venus' turtles' breast. 

Yet disclose not what is seen there, 
When her hand, or Zephyr's sighs 

Ope the happy veil that covers 
The blest couch whereon she lies ! 

Tell me not what thrill goes thro' one, 
When her luscious lip of balm 

Kisses the caressing cover 

Which confines thy plumage warm. 

Tell me rather, tell me only, 
How T often, and with what fire, 

She repeats the name of lover, 
Fondness, pleasure, and desire ! 



104 POEMS. 

Tell me rather how many tears 

Bathe the couch which feels her pain, 

When with flowers I deck the breast 
Of rosy Kate or blushing Jane. 

Beauty alone, on downy couch, 

Is less timid and more fair ; 
E'en as her melting charms, her soul, 

On downy couch, is nearly bare ! 

Oh ! when shall I, sweet pillow, say, 
On thee recline, lock'd in her arms, 

See her thrill with sweetest terror, 
Height'ning all her luring charms? 

Her hand, last eve, I gently prest— 

Her eye beam'd bright, like morning's ray ! 

And softly whisp'ring " Come to night," — 
Blush'd — look'd down, and flew away. 

And shall I then at length be bless'd ? 

Will she now my bliss complete ? 
Dear pillow ! I will fly to-night, 

And, near thee, my doom entreat ! 



POEMS. 105 



TO 



Lady, does it grieve thee, tell me, 

That thou once wert kind ? I'll swear 

Those smiles were meant but to repel me, 
And scorn, not love, was seated there. 

I'll say, those lips have never blest me ; 

Never breath'd one mutual sigh : 
And, when that touch at parting p rest me. 

Swear 'twas meant to bid me fly. 

Yes ! if thy gentle heart will let thee, 
Oh forget thou e'er wert kind ! 

I will strive, too, to forget thee, 
And, in madness, seem resigned ! 

And, oh ! relenting at my anguish, 
Shouldst thou chide the fruitless sigh, 

Shouldst thou bid me cease to languish, 
Lady, I'll obey — and die ! 



106 POEMS. 

Then farewell the harp for ever ! 

Once thou taught its string to glow : 
Love the quiv'ring string must sever, 

Touch'd by the icy hand of woe ! 

Yet never shall these lips upbraid thee 
With one sad, one murmuring breath, 

Till heav'n more kind than thou art, Lady, 
Shall bid them sigh the sigh of death ! 



POEMS ior 



THE AGE FOR LOVE. 



Fifteen ! oh the charming age, Kate ! 
Of sweetest pleasures 'tis the date ; 
Make then good use on't — 'tis thy prime : 
Fifteen, with Love, is harvest-time ! 
Before fifteen, a maid is thought 
A girl, a child, e'en fit for naught ; 
Unless fifteen, she's coldly seen, 
Nor lovely deem'd, unless fifteen ! 

At fifteen culture quits its power; 
The ripe bud then becomes a flower. 
At fifteen Nature takes the reins, 
And fills the breast with pleasing pains. 
At Jive, there's naught but whining, crying ; 

At ten, sport and pastime still are s^een ; 
At twelve, sweet tender throbs and sighing — 

But to love, a maid must be fifteen. 1 



108 POEMS. 



THE ROSE. 



The rose's age is but a day! 

At dawn it opens to the ray, 

Its chalice fill'd with dew appears 

Like beauty's cheek with pity's tears ! 

At noon it wears- a hue more bright; 

At eve it drops, and dies at night ! 

And such is beauty's transient bloom, 

It dawns in tears and lives in sorrow ; 
Time's nightfall shrouds it in the tomb — 

The eve of beauty knows no morrow ! 



POEMS. 109 



TO MRS. AIR, 

ON HER DEPARTURE FOR - 



Yes J I am lost! by those bright eyes 
Entrapp'd before I was aware ! 

E'en Hope deserts me, for my sighs 
Are given to unconscious Air. 

Like the mild Air which sweetly swells 
The notes of an iEolian lyre, 

Whose magic ev'ry woe dispels, 
And fills us with seraphic fire, — 

This soothing, lovely Air can make 
The passions bend to her control, 

And, with ethereal mildness, wake 
The softest music of the soul ! 



110 POEMS. 

Thy smile, (like the pure Air which blows 
Where spirits of the blest unite), 

Exhilarating Air # bestows 
A dear delirium of delight ! 

I live, I move, by means of Air ; 

Yet gentle Air resolves to fly ! 
Oh stay ! protect me from despair! 

By Air deserted — I must die ! 

* Exhilarating air is Sir Humphrey Davy's term for 
what is called in the technical phrase of chemistry, gazeous 
oxyd of nitrogen. When inhaled, it produces the wildest 
ecstacy, A late writer on the subject poetically imagines that 
the atmosphere of heaven is composed of that, kind of air. 



POF.MS. Ill 



SONG. 



Dear Phillis, lay by all this folly of art, 

Your beauties, I swear, need no splendor 
of dress ; 
With the air of a bully you enter each heart, 
And, though more we admire you, we love 
you the less ! 

The soft feminine blush, and the half-shaded 
eye, 
Are, sure, the best foils for such delicate 
charms ; 
From the impudent harlot all true lovers fly, 
But tremblingly sink into modesty's arms! 

So falls in the serpent's sly mouth, as we're 
told, 
The poor bird that is wheedled and won by 
disguise ; 



112 POEMS. 

While the snare, so incautious, which all men 
behold, 
May inveigle, perhaps, some few weather- 
beat flies. 

The nameless sweet graces that play on your 
cheek, 
By nature bestow'd, are by cunning destroyed; 
The shackles of cunning most easily break, 
And nought but her meanness and envy's 
enjoy ? d ! 

But the bright chains of nature by wisdom 
are hung, 
And, fine as a cobweb, are stronger than steel; 
She gives a new magical tone to the tongue, 
And such transports inspires as the Cheru- 
bim feel. 

Then, prithee, give over this ill-natured sport, 
What has scorn or ill-humour to do with 
fair love ? 

Let angels record all our vows, when we court, 
And judge of their truth in the temple above I 



POEMS. H3 



SONG. 



While in thy sweet bonds I languish, 
Latent poisons pierce my heart ; 

Tho' severe the pleasing anguish, 
Yet, methinks, we could not part ! 

Such resistless charms persuading, 

Make the rosy fetters light ; 
Bliss and torment, mutual aiding, 

In the tender war unite. 

Lovely victor ! lo ! my blushes 
Tell the haughty captive's shame, 

Now, quick rage my bosom flushes, 
Now, dissolves at Julia's name ! 

Yet, these arts unkind and cruel 

Pow'r, much more than sense, display, 

Who, that hoards a precious jewel, 
Burns the radiant gloss aw 7 ay ! 

9 



114 POEMS. 



TO THE BUTTERFLY. 



Little fly — thou merry thing, 
All the summer's noon on wing, 
Thou, where'er thy pleasure leads, 
Thro' rosy bow'rs, or sunny meads, 

Flora's kingdom ranging ; 
Dost thy luscious banquet sip, 
Honey from the violet's lip ; 
Dew and fragrance is thy draught 
From the lily's chalice quaffed : 

Thou art ever changing 
Thy home — for now thou lov'st to dwelL 
Within the cowslip's golden bell— 
Now T thy tiny footsteps rest 
On the rose's crimson breast, 

Till the Zephyr stealing 
Whispers thee with him to fly 
Where rich summer's treasures lie, 
Amid flow'rs of various hue, 
Studded with the diamond dew, 

Downy bloom revealing. 



POEMS. 115 



Sport away, thou merry thing, 
For to-morrow will but bring 
Joy and happiness to thee, 
Aye from care and sorrow free, 

Thy life a summer's noon '. 
Lovely as the fairy gleam 
Fancy pictures in her dream, 
Brightly colour'd as thy wing, 
Dyed with all the hues of Spring \ 

Nature's subtle boon — 
Woven in her fairy loom, 
Sprinkled with her richest bloom. 
Given thee to sport thy hour, 
Shielded from the urchin's pow'r. 



116 POEMS. 



ANACREONTTQUJB. 

ODE TO CUPID. 



Sweet little chicken ! urchin sly ! 
Commander of the twinkling eye, 
Director of the am'rous glance, 
Protector of the fair, advance ! 
But not with bow and pointed dart, 
Prepar'd to pierce my rebel heart ; 
And, without asking why or whether, 
In my best blood imbue your feather ! 
If we may meet like friends or so, 
And quiet come, and quiet go, 
Why then, perchance, we'll chime full often, 
And with some wine our tattle soften ; 
For faith without it we'd be stupid, 
(Bacchus is requisite for Cupid !) 



POEMS. 117 

And well I know, for all your pother, 
When Mamma's'* out you join each other ! 
And, oh ! if you have pow'r enough, 
To tranquillize such stubborn stuff', 
Sophia's prud'ry overset, 
And make her e'en — a good coquette ! 

■ Venus. 



US POEMS. 



LOVERS 5 VOWS. 



By the smile that plays around thy lip, 
Its nectar — Oh, ecstasy to sip ! 
By that sweet face, so heav'nly fair, 
Thy sylph-like form, thy modest air, 

Mary, I adore thee ! 

By those bright eyes which speak thy mind ; 
Thy auburn locks of golden hue : 
By that sweet look which tells you kind ; 
By all my cherish'd hopes in you, 

Mary, I adore thee ! 



POEMS. 119 



ODE. 



Come, let us pleasure's maze pursue, 
Pleasures ever gay and new ; 
Careless, we'll disdain to borrow 
Smiles or sadness from to-morrow : 
Trip the glittering rainbow round, 
List the timbrel's silver sound, 
The breathing flute, so soft and clear, 
And let Apulia's lyre be here ! 
Nor less the bard of Grecian fame, 
Skilled the pall'd senses to reclaim ! 
Fill, oh fill the melting measure, 
Soul of music ! soul of pleasure ! 
Now the soft entrancing song 
Steals the conscious wire along, 
Beauty mantles o'er the bowl, 
Beauty wantons through the soul. 
Form of airy essence ! wed 
Inchantment to thy roseate bed • 



l c 20 POEMS. 

Array'd in visionary charms, 
Oh clasp me in thy glowing arms ! 
Then give the liquid glance of fire, 
The breathing lip of young desire, 
The murmuring sigh that melts away, 
And ever let me bask in rapture's golden ray ! 



POEMS. 119* 

SOXG. 



In vain from thy glances, oh Beauty, I fly, 

Thy arrows unerringly move ; 
The magnet still holds me, that lurks in that eye, 

And the weapon that wounds me, I love ! 
Now, madd'ning with torments that thrill thro' 
each vein, 

For oblivion I dive in the bowl, 
Ev'n Bacchus himself can but heighten the 
pain, 

Dear Syren, when thou hast my soul ! 

Now, pausing profound on the stoical page, 

Thick reveries lap me awhile ; 
But what lover, alas! ever turn'd to a sage, 

Could the Stagirite* frown at her smile ! 
From yon dimple, where ambush'd the ecsta- 
sies lie, 

ReveaFd oh ! what transports appear ; 
While, hopeless, I wave each presumption 
away, 

And drop on my passion a tear ! 

* The name given to Aristotle on account of his "having 
been born in Stagira, a town on the borders of Macedonia. 



120* POEMS. 

Erewhile, from one fair to a fairer I stray'd, 

No home then my heart ever knew ; 
Whether pleas'd, or tormented, caress'd, or 
betray'd, 
Her image inconstantly flew ! 
Thy wings, then, oh Time ! were not damp'd 
by my sighs, 
They flung varied pleasures around ; 
Like phantoms, I chased them with joy and 
surprise, 
And left them, like phantoms, when found ! 

But now, how my fancy is haunted by woes, 

And sinks from that spectre, Despair ; 
Yet dare I not tell whence this tenderness flows, 

So haughty, so fell is the fair ! 
Thus he, who, poor wretch, at some idol's 
dark shrine 

For relief from his anguish will pray, 
Must, in gratitude, bleed for the mercy divine, 

And his life, as the sacrifice, pay ! 



POEMS. 121* 



SONG. 



What is the brightest eye that shines ? 
A spell that 's writ in fading lines ! 
What is the sweetest cheek that glows ? 
Presumptuous virgin, ask the rose ! 

Then dare not with my love to play 
You wait, like me, a short decay ; 
The witty, beautiful, and brave, 
Must join together in the grave ! 

Is it in a dimpled smile, 
Frail clay, thou placest victory ? 
Lo ! gliding from yon fun'ral pile, 
Pale beauties moan — 'tis thine to die ! 






122* POEMS, 

Is it in a lovely air, 

Poor earth, thou hang'st thy banners out ? 
Lo ! from yon tomb, the passing fair 
Thy troop of transient transports rout ! 

Where is proud Sacharissa now, 
That did the lovesick Thyrsis wrong ? 
His wreath illumes her ghastly brow, 
Her beauties flourish in his song ! 

The fair, the gallant, are but shades ! 
Think on this truth, ye fleeting maids ! 
The summer's smiling hours improve, 
Ere winter con;es ; and baffles love ! 



POEMS, K>] 



LINES ADDRESSED TO HER BED; 

BY LAURA, 



For you, my bed, a wreath I'll twine ! 

A wreath of roses fresh and fair ; 
And sing, how oft, with hand divine, 

Pleasure has strew'd her garland there. 



» M 



When first with passion's genial flame 
My virgin heart unconscious thrill'd, 

To you I softly breath/d the pain 

Which all my trembling bosom filPd ! 

And when an object caught my eye, 
By fancy dress'd with heav'nly charms : 

To you I breath'd the tender sigh, 
And softly told my fond alarms. 



122 POEMS. 

And when to passion's lawless pow'r 

I madly yielded all my soul ; 
When, at the solemn midnight hour, 

My lover to my bosom stole : — 

No storm disturbed th' eventful night ; 

No accident his steps delayed : 
But the moon's pale uncertain light 

Soft on my snowy curtains play'd ! 

And when my promis'd love he claim'd, 
And vow'd and swore he would be true; 

(Let not my yielding soul be blam'd), 
I trembled, sigh'd, and sank on you ! 

Then as he gave the burning kiss, 
And panted on my throbbing breast ; 

And sought the last — the dearest bliss — 
And pray'd, and struggl'd to be blest ; 

No friendly hand was nigh to save : — 
My voice — my breath — my strength, was gone, 

The shriek my parting virtue gave 
Was heard by you and you alone ! 



POEMS. 123 



But when the envious morn was nigh, 
And with light steps my love withdrew ; 

I heav'd the fond reluctant sigh, 
And hid my blushing face in you ! 



124 POEMS, 



AN EASTERN SONG. 



When last we parted on the shore, 
The western star illum'd the sea ; 

You bad me mark it, and adore ; 
And, far away, to think on thee ! 

O'er Mirza's grove it rose last night ; 

To others, doubtless, fair it shone :- 
But ah ! to me how dim its light ! 

For, when I gaz'd, I was alone ! 



POEMS. l l 25 



BALLAD. 



How sweet were the evenings of love, 

When the branches all tremblingly play'd, 

And pale Cynthia stoop'd from above 
To gaze on my loveliest maid: 

For her beams, that sweet silver the air, 
Were faint to the beams of her eye ; 

And the starlight no longer was fair, 
When the smiles of my Anna were by. 

She was all a fond shepherd's proud boast, 
Her bosom his heav'nly abode ; 

But ah ! the soft soother is lost ! 
She lies near yon violet sod ! 



l c 26 POEMS. 



FAREWELL TO LOVE. 



AN ODE. 
TO 



I feel the transient passion past 
In fires too exquisite to last; 
I feel the gradual pang decay, 
Sweet is the night, and calm the day ! 
The fierce pulse bounds no more to clasp 
Thy small waist with extatic grasp ; 
The accents wont to quiver deep 
And stammer on the trembling lip, 
Now freely fall ; the sidelong glance, 
The tender heave, th' empassion'd trance, 
Are fled to grieve some fated swain, 
And I've my liberty again ! 
She, whom I priz'd for heav'nly charms, 
I've found a mortal in my arms ; 



POEMS. l c >7 

She whom I once ador'd, no more 

Can bid my cautious eye adore ; 

She whom I would have died t' embrace, 

Has died in mem'ry's lessening trace ; 

Yet still, most grateful I remain 

For former pleasure, former pain ! 



12S POEMS. 



EVENING. 



Lo ! Hesper from his coral cave 
Deep below the azure wave 
Rising in his misty shroud, 
His banner waves — a silver cloud ! 
Shadowy forms in armies fly, 
Like things of life, along the sky — 
Of Fancy born — who warps the sight 
With phantoms in the train of night ! 
Till from the nether worlds afar, 
The pale moon in her silver car, 
Up aether's shadowy cliffs ascends ; 
Her purest beams to each she lends 
To light their tops — a mimic birth, 
To mock the mountains of the earth ! 
Along some pearly sea she rides, 
Deep in some cloudy cavern glides, 
Then climbs the ridge's steepest height, 
And sits enthron'd the Queen of Night ! 



POEMS. 1V9 



PARADISE LOST 

A FRAGMENT. 



Ah ! from truth and love betray'd, 
Smiles no longer Eden's shade, 
The tear of ev'n, the blush of dawn, 
The breezy steep, the dewy lawn ! 

Now no more in dell or bow'r 
Blooms the gay entwining flow'r, 
Whose dew-bright foliage oft among, 
Sweetly trill'd the simple song ! 
No more the faded jess'mines feel 
O'er their quiv'ring bosoms steal, 
Soft the conscious sigh of bliss, 
Warm the glow of rapture's kiss ; 



130 POEMS. 

O'er beauty proud their shade to rear ! 

Water'd now by beauty's tear ! 

Dim is the day to guilt's dark eye, 

Death thunders from the angry sky ; 
Frowns o'er the deep, lies ambush'd in the 

vale, 
Lurks 'neath each form, and sighs in ev'ry gale, 
In vain the weary exiles seek repose, 
And nature saddens with their mutual woes ! 

Goddess of the living lyre, 
Wake ! oh, wake thy sacred fire ! 
In a heav'n-instructed measure, 
Oh ! revive the forms of pleasure ! 
See beneath yon willow'd shade, 

Hopeless weep the banish'd pair, 
Damps of midnight fast invade, 

Sorrow saddens to despair. 
Pining still in lonely thought, 

Oft they sigh reproach to fate, 
Doom'd to drink her bitt'rest draught, 

Doom'd to feel her sternest hate. 



POEMS. 131 

The goddess hears ! 

Her lyre she rears 
Entwin'd with many a blushing tlower, 

From Eden sprung, 

That clustering hung 
Round love's enchanted bower ! 

Now she sweeps the trembling strings, 
Now of joys departed sings, 

And pleasures ever new, 
Blooming still in fancy's pow'r, 
Boasting still the mimic hour, 

Nor ravish'd wholly from the view. 
But chief Religion mild as fair, 
With peaceful lip, and humble air, 
On sailing pinion gently press'd the plain, 
Faith, Love, and Friendship smiling in her 

train. 

Lo ! the faded glooms decay, 
Touch'd by faith's enchanting ray ; 



132 POEMS. 

Bright on sorrow's languid eye 
Streams a passage to the sky ! 
Springing from the alter'd waste 
Love with blushes hides the past, 
With tender arts the present cheers, 
And veils the doubt of future years ! 



poems. 133 



A WISH. 



Oh ! were it but my happy lot 

To dwell in yonder vale, 
The tenant of yon humble cot, 

Where sighs the western gale :— 

I there would live in blest content, 
Nor envy proud or great, 

But grateful feel to lieav'n that sent 
A gift so kind and sweet ! 

At morn, I'd o'er the mountain run 
To catch the healthy gale ; 

At even, watch the setting sun, 
And list the robin's tale. 

And when my daily task was done, 
And night had veiPd the grove ; 

I'd seek my couch, and there return 
Mv thanks to Him above ! 



O 



134 POEMS. 



FRIENDSHIP. 



How blest is he whose happy mind 
Has gain'd a true, untainted friend ! 

He ne'er shall want the hour refin'd, 
Nor in despair the moment spend. 

If stretched upon the bed of pain 
With agonizing frame he lies ; 

Friendship doth ever nigh remain, 
With pitying look and weeping eyes ! 

Do the dread clouds of fortune lower? 

He bears an equal share of woe ; 
Or threatens fierce offended power ? 

His bosom intercepts the blow ! 

'Tis friendship lightens life's sad load, 
And robs misfortune of its sting ; 

He clears the thorns from mis'ry's road, 
And in their stead doth roses fling ! 



POEMS. 135 



Ye violets droop — thou rose no longer bloom— ■ 

A sweeter flower than ye all hath faded ! 
Bow your fair heads, and die upon her tomb : 

No more in Laura's lovely tresses braided, 
Shall your soft colors with her beauty vie, 

To be by her more lovely hues degraded ; 

The gloom of death her loveliness has 
shaded, 
'Twas all of Laura's beauty that could die ! 
For there is that which blooms in memory, 

A brighter image — that cannot decay — 
The mind's remaining, dearest phantasy ! 

Like the sweet sounds of music far away, 
Which, waken'd by some spirit's magic finger, 
Enwrap the soul, and round the senses linger 
While mem'ry lives her virtues shall not die! 
Her being was a dream of ecstasy, 



136 POEMS. 

From which we wake but to regret its sweet- 
ness — 
A transient glimpse of joy to the forlorn, 
That glances forth, but to betray its fleetness — 

The rich effulgence of a vernal morn, 
Whose buds unfold the earlier to be blighted — 
An angel's voice whose tones no more re- 
turn 
To charm the ear it sooth'd and left delighted! 



POEMS. 13/ 



TO A LADY 

WHOSE INFANT DAUGHTER, DELPHINE, WAS 

REMARKABLE FOR THE BEAUTY, FIRE, AND 

INTELLIGENCE OF HER EYES. 



The Rose, which boasts so rich a dye, 
And wantonly with Zephyr plays, 

Wooes the delighted traveller's eye, 
Yet blushes at the traveller's gaze I 

That Rose, in but a little while, 

Shall bloom and blush no longer there, 

Shall pass away, like beauty's smile,— 
Be pale and cheerless, like despair. 

But when another Spring shall rise, 
Another Rose shall there be found; 

Another rose of richer dyes 

Shall shed a sweeter fragrance round. 



138 POEMS, 

Thou art that earlier Rose — O long 
Be friendship with thy virtues blest ! 

The theme of many a poet's song, 
The idol of affection's breast ! 

And, if thy little one confirm 

The promise of her speaking eyes, 

In Delphine we behold the germ 
Of the next rose of richer dyes ! 

O may this child surpass in worth 
The bright example thou hast given, 

Charm the enraptur'd sons of earth, 
Then flourish in the fields of Heaven ! 



POEMS 139 



LINES 

TO BE ENGRAVED ON THE TOMB-STONE OF AN 
ONLY DAUGHTER, WHOSE FATHER HAD DIED A 
FEW YEARS BEFORE. — THE MOTHER IS SUP- 
POSED TO WRITE THEM. 



Tho' the tree of my life, both the shelter and 

shade, 
Was cut down in its prime, yet the desert it 

made 
Was cheer'd by a dear little Scion for years, 
Which blossom'd in smiles, tho' water'd by 

tears ; 
Now that too has perish'd, renewing to me, 
In the fall of the Scion, the crash of the Tree ! 



140 POEMS, 



STANZAS, 



Softly blows the Summer gale, 
Flitting idly round the sail, 
To woo us to the tranquil deep 
Whose waves in peaceful silence sleep ; 
But Zephyr plumes his wing with wiles, 
And ruin lurks in Ocean's smiles ! 
The gallant bark securely glides 
With fav'ring gales thro' peaceful tides ! 
The slumb'ring winds awake — the storm 
Assumes his darkest, wildest form ; 
The pilot vainly seeks the shore, 
His shatter'd bark returns no more ! 

Such is the morn of life — as calm — 
Pleasure's smooth wave that spreads the charm, 



POEMS. 141 

A polish'd mirror, to the eyes, 
Reflecting suns and cloudless skies — 
But where is he that e'er return' d 
From pleasure's wave and never mournYl 
The wreck of Hope — of Virtue lost, 
By Vice's gales, on Ruin's billows toss'd ! 



If 

t 
i 



112 POEMS, 



THE SEASONS. 

A FRAGMENT. 



SPRING. 



Mild Spring, 



Now smiling, and now weeping, on humid 
Wing, draws nigh — Young Hope her early 

visit 
Tends, and Sport, and blooming Health ! 



SUMMER. 



Wafted by sultry gales, on silken wing, 

Resplendent Summer comes— Gladdening Pre- 
mise 

Her noontide flight precedes. The Pleasures, 
Loves, 

And Graces hov'ring round her burning carl 



POEMS.. 143 



AUTUMN. 



— Brown Autumn next, 



With hazel eye, loose vest, and sun-burnt face, 
Conies blithsome on — The ripen'd corn and 

down-cheek'd 
Fruit her evening visit mark, and Plenty 
Smiling in her happy train ! 



WINTER. 



Fell Winter, 

His froze teeth chatt'ring in his palsied jaw, 
W T ith icy scythe, comes last.- — Cankers and 

blights, 
And deadly dews his midnight march attend, 
And horror moaning thro* the iron air ! 



i 



144 POEMS. 



SONNET. 

Et jam summa procul villarum culmina fumant ; 
Majoresque cadunt altis de montibus umbrae. 

Virgil. 



Thro' hazel copse oft, studious, let me roam, 
When love's last warblings melt the frozen 
year ; 

When the mute thrush broods o'er his little 
home, 
And sobbing murmurs strike the musing ear. 

When golden Autumn sinks on Winter grey — 
Meanwhile the evening falls in many a tear, 
Pallid and still, with wat'ry front severe; 

Till, slow dissolv'd in radiant mist away, 
The dim horizon clears, and the soft moon, 

Floats thro' the blue expanse in silver pride ! 

How sweet from some tall mountain's shadowy 
side, 
To catch the melting shake of pastoral tune. 



POEMS. 145 

Wild warbled ! or the simple bell, afar, 
Flinging faint pauses on the broken wind. 

To mark the speckled cloud, the twinkling star, 
Or the long waste of lovely night behind, 

Fitting to solemn thought the pure, poetic 
mind ! 



I 



146 POEMS. 



STANZAS.* 



" Those evening bells ! those evening bells !" 
How many a tale their chiming tells 
Of days of joy and bliss gone by, 
When lightly pass'd the bosom's sigh ; 
When those our warm hearts held most dear, 
Most fondly priz'd, still linger'd here : 
When youth of future greatness dream'd, 
And love and friendship real seemed ! 

Still, still ring on, sweet evening bells ! 
I love the tales your chiming tells ; 

* This is one of the few trifles the Editor has taken the 
liberty to insert. To attempt to conceal from whence he has 
borrowed the idea, as also the whole first line of the poem, 
would be as fruitless as presumptuous. The beautiful stan- 
zas on the same subject by the inimitable author of " Lalla 
Rookh" are too well known for him to attempt the impo- 
sition. 



POEMS. 147 

And though my sighs pass heavy now, 
And clouds of care obscure my brow, 
'Tis your's the pow'r to sooth my breast, 
And lull each troubled sense to rest ! 



148 POEMS. 



FAREWELL TO POESY. 



Sweet pipe, adieu ! — thy strain is o'er ! 
The melting song thou'lt breathe no more ; 
No more to Laura's breast convey 
The tender tale, or 'witching lay ! 
No more beguile thy master's heart, 
Who grieves with thee so soon to part : 
Since he to distant climes must rove, 
And quit for aye blest scenes of love ! 
To Fancy and Affection true, 
Once more, sweet pipe, adieu ! adieu ! 




ERRATA. 



Page 19 line 6 dele comma after painting. 

39 9 dele comma after there. 

— — 46 8 insert years after more. 

66 - — 23 colon after band. 

71 18 for abys's read abyss*. 

78 3 dele ■ - 

103 I comma after secrets, 

— — 104 5 comma after beauty. 



J, Loivndes, Printer, 36, Bow Street, Covent Garden, 



Price One Shilling and Sixpence, with an Engraving 
after Titian's Venus, and a Vignette after Cipriani 
of the Three Graces, 

The Economy of Love, 

By Dr. ARMSTRONG. 

Done in boards, and lettered on morocco, after the French 
manner. 

Price One Shilling and Sixpence, in Boards, 

THE ACTOR; 

Or, GUIDE TO THE STAGE. 

Exemplifying the whole Art of Acting: in which the 
Dramatic passions are defined, analyzed, and made easy 
of acquirement. The whole interspersed with select and 
striking examples from the most popular and modern 
pieces. 

Price Four Shillings and Sixpence, Second Edition, with a 
Vignette Title Page. In extra Boards, 

MORE BROAD GRINS; 

Or, Mirth versus Melancholy. 
A continuation to G. Colman's Broad Grins. 



Price Two Shillings and Sixpence — In one Volume, boarded 
in the French manner, and lettered on Morocco. 

PRISON THOUGHTS! 

By A COLLEGIAN. 

Elegy written in King's Bench, in imitation of Gray. — 
Lines on the back of a Horse. — And all the World's at 
Law. With three Vignette Views of the King's Bench. 



DRAMATIC PIECES, 

Bij JOHN LOWNDES, 36, BOW STREET 

COVENT GARDEN, 



FLOATING BEACON ; or the Norwegian Wreckers, a Melo- 
drama, in Two Acts, by E. Ball, as performed at the Surrey- 
Theatre. 2s. 

RACE FOR A WIFE ; or Win Her and Wear Her, a Petite- 
comedy, in Two Acts, by H. W. Challis, as performed at 
the Olympic Theatre. 2s. 

WHITTINGTON AND HIS CAT ; or London in 1370, a 
Melo-drama, in Three Acts, by H. M. Milner, as performed at 
the Cobourg Theatre. 2s. 

CHERRY BOUNCE, a Farcetta in One Act, as performed at 
Sadler's Wells and Olympic Theatres, with a Characteristic 
Engraving of Mr. Keeley. Is. 6d. 



WAVERLY; or Sixty Years Since, a Melo-dramatic Romance, 
in Three Acts, by E. W. Ball, as performed at the Adelphi 
Theatre, with a Characteristic Engraving of Mrs. Waylett. 2s. 6d. 

PEVERIL OF THE PEAK; or the Days of King Charles the 
Second, a Melo-dramatic Romance, in Three Acts, by E. Ball, 
as performed at the Surrey Theatre. 2s. 6d. 



NEW DRAMATIC PIECES. 

FORTUNES OF NIGEL ; or King James I. and his Time* 
a Melodramatic Romance, in Three Acts, by Edward Bali 
as performed at the Surrey Theatre. 2s. 6d. 

ELS HIE; or Wizard of the Moor; a Melo-drama, in Thre 
Acts, founded on the Black Dwarf, by B. Gott, as performs 
at the West London Theatre. 2s. 

PIRATE ; a Musical Drama, in Three Acts, by J. R. Planche 
as performed at the Olympic Theatre. 2s. 

HEBREW, a Drama in Five Acts, founded on a principa 
Incident in Ivanhoe, by George Soane, as performed at the 
Theatre Royal, Drury Lane. 2s. 6d. 

BATTLE OF BOTHWELL BRIG ; a Scottish Romance 
in Two Acts, founded on Old Mortality, by Charles Farley 
as performed at the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden. 2s. 

KENILWORTH ; a Melo-drama, as performed at the Theatre 
Royal, Covent Garden. 2s. 

IVANHOE; or the Jewess ; a Clnvalric Play, in Three Acts: 
by W. T. Monerieff. 2s. 6d. 

HEART OF MID LOTHIAN; or the Lily of St. Leonard's; 
a Melo-dramatic Romance, by T. Dibdin ; as performed al 
the Surrey Theatre. 2s. 6d. 

ABBOT ; or Mary Queen of Scots ; a Melo-Drama, in Three 
Acts, as performed at the West London Theatre. Is. 

THREE HUNCHBACKS; or the, Sabre Grinders of Da- 
mascus ; a Comic Burietta, by E. Ball, as performed at the 
Surrey Theatre. 2s. 

CORTEZ; or the Conquest of Mexico, an Historical Drama, 
in Three Acts, by J. R. Planche, as performed at the Theatre 
Royal, Covent Garden, with a characteristic engraving of 
Miss Paton. 2s. 6d. 



NEW DRAMATIC PIECES. 

ATREUS AND THYESTES, a Tragedy, in Five Acts, by 
Edward Sinnett. 3s. 

HERTFORDSHRE TRAGEDY; or the Victims of 
Gaming; a Serious Drama, as performed at the Coburg 
Theatre. Is. 

GAMBLERS; a Melo-Drama, in Two Acts, as performed 
at the Surrey Theatre; with an etching. Is. 

LIFE IN LONDON; or, the Larks of Logic, Tom and 
Jerry, an Extravaganza, in Three Acts, by Charles Dibdin, 
as performed at the Olympic Theatre, with coloured etching 
of Oxberry as Jerry Hawthorn, by Cruickshank. 2s. 

TOM AND JERRY; or, Life in London, a whimsical and 
Equestrian Drama, in Three Acts, as performed at Davis's 
Royal Amphitheatre, with a coloured plate. Is. 

TREAD-MILL; or, Tom and Jerry at Brixton, a Mill- 
dramatic Burletta, in Two Acts, as performed at the Surrey 
Theatre, with a coloured and aquatinted etching of " Life 
in a Slap Bang Crib," and also " Life in a Mill." Is. 

TOM AND JERRY IN FRANCE; or, Vive la Bagatelle, 
a Musical Entertainment, in Three Acts, as performed at 
the Coburg Theatre, with a coloured etching, by Cruick- 
shank. Is. 

MODERN COLLEGIANS ; or, Over the Bridge, a Comic 
Sketch, in One Act, by W.T. MoncriefT, as performed at 
the Coburg Theatre. Is. 6d. 

TEREZA TOMKINS; or, the Fruits of Geneva, a righte 
spirited and merrie Melo-drama, in Three Acts, replete with 
legal Difficulties, and pleasant Pathos, by W. T. Moncrieff, 
as performed at the Olympic Theatre. 2s. 

DEATH OF LIFE IN LONDON; or, Tom and Jerry's 

Funeral, a Parody, in One Act ? * by T. Greenwood, as per- 
formed at the Coburg Theatre, with an aquatinted etching 
by Cruickshank, representing Procession of Funeral. Is. 



NEW DRAMATIC PIECES. 

MELMOTH,THE WANDERER; a Melo-drama, in Three 
Acts, as performed at the Coburg Theatre. 2s. 

CENT PER CENT ; or, the Masquerade, a Farce, in Two 
Acts, as performed at the Theatre Royal, Covent-garden. 2s 

BARBER; or, the Mill of Bagdad, a Burletta, in Two Acts, 
by E. Ball, as performed at the Surrey Theatre. 2s. 

UNION; or, Love and Projection, a Mono-drame, in One 
Act, as concentrated, embodied, and delivered by Mr. I. H. 
Brown, at the Royal Gardens, Vauxhall 5 with a coloured 
etching by Cruickshank, representing Mr. B. in all his 
characters. Is. 

MAID MARIAN; or, the Huntress of Arlingford, a legen- 
dary Opera, in Three Acts, by J. R. Planche, as performed 
at the Theatre Royal, Covent-garden. 2s. 6d. 

IRISH TUTOR; or, New Lights, a Comic piece, in 
One Act, as performed at the Theatre Royal Covent- 
garden. Is. 6d. 

JOAN OF ARC; or, The Maid of Orleans ; a Melo-drama, 
in Three Acts, by JE. Ball ; as performed at Sadler's Wells 
Theatre, with a coloured etching of Mrs. Egerton. Is. 

LOVE AMONG THE ROSES; or, the Master Key ; an 
Operetta, as performed at the Theatre Royal, English Opera 
House. 2s. 

THIRTEEN YEARS' LABOUR LOST; or, the Force of 
Nature; an Interlude, as performed at the Coburg Theatre, 
with a coloured etching. Is. 

INNKEEPER OF ABBEVILLE; or, the Ostler and the 
Robber; a Melo-drama, in Two Acts, by E. Ball, as per- 
formed at the Surrey Theatre, with an etching. Is. 6d. 

Mr. TIBBS; a Farcetta, as performed at the Theatre Royal 
Drury-lane. Is. 6d. 



NEW DRAMATIC PIECES. 

SQUEEZE TO THE CORONATION; a Loyal Sketch, 
as performed at the English Opera House. Is. tkL 

CROCKERY'S MISFORTUNES; or, Transmogrifications; 
a Comic interlude, as performed at the Coburg Theatre, with 
a coloured portrait. Is. 

THERESE; or, the Orphan of Geneva; a Melo-drama, in 

Two Acts, as performed at the Olympic Theatre. Is. 
VAMPIRE; or, the Bride of the Isles, a Melo-drama, 

by J. R. Planche, as performed at the English Opera 

House. 2s. 
ROMAN ACTOR ; or. the Drama's Vindication, a Prelude, 

compressed from Massinger, as performed at the Theatre 

Royal, Drury-lane, with a plate. Is. 

ADELAIDE ; or, the Fatal Seduction, a Melo-drama, in Two 
Acts, from the French of Pixerecourt, as performed at the 
Coburg Theatre, with a plate, 8vo. 2s., 12mo. Is. 

LOVE'S DREAM; a petite Opera, as performed at the 

Theatre Royal, English Opera House. 2s. 
CURE FOR COXCOMBS ; an Operetta, as performed at 

the Theatre Royal English Opera House. Is. fid. 
WARLOCK OF THE GLEN; a Melo-drama, in Two 

Acts, as performed at the Theatre Royal Covent-garden. 2s. 

SELF SACRIFICE; or, the Maid of the Cottage, a Melodrama, in Two 
Acts, by G. Soane, as performed at the English Opera House. 2s. 

ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE, by Advertisement; a Musical 
Entertainment, in One Act, as performed at the Theatre Royal, Eng- 
lish Opera House, with a striking likeness of Mr. John Reeve. Is. 6d. 

TWELVE PRECISELY; or, a Night at Dover; an Interlude, in One 
Act, by H. M. Milner, as performed at the Olympic Theatre. Is. 6d. 

MANAGER IN DISTRESS; a Prelude, in One Act, by G. Colman 
the Elder, as performed at the Theatre Royal, Covent-garden, with a 
striking likeness of Mr. Yates. Is. 6d. 

MARY STUART ; a Tragedy, in Five Acts, by Frederic Schiller, trans, 
lated into English by J. C. M, Ss. 



NEW DRAMATIC PIECES. 






HELPLESS ANIMALS; or, Bachelor's Fare; a Musical Iuterlude, 

One Act, by John Parry, as performed at the Theatre Royal, Covei 

garden. Is. 6d. 
ACTRESS OF ALL WORK; or, My Country Cousin; a Con 

Sketch, in One Act, by W. Oxberry, as performed at the 01ym[ 

Theatre. Is. 6d. 
DISAGREEABLE SURPRISE; or, Taken up and Taken in; a Musii 

Farce, in Two Acts, as performed at the Theatre Royal, Drury-lane. 
WANTED A WIFE; or, a Cheque on my Banker ; a Comedy, in Fi 

Acts, by W. T. Moncrieff, as performed at the Theatre Royal, Drui 

lane. Ss. 
JEW OF LUBECK; or, the Heart of a Father; a Melodrama, in T\ 

Acts, by H. M. Milner, as performed at the Theatre Royal, Drur 

lane. 2s. 
QUADRILLE; or, a Quarrel for What? an Operetta, in One Act, 

performed at the Theatre Royal, English Opera House. Is. 6d. 
STEWARD; or, Fashion and Feeling ; a Comedy, in Five Acts, as pe 

formed at the Theatre Royal, Covent-garden. 3s. 
DOCTOR BOLUS; a Serio-comic Bombastic Operatic Interlude, in Oi 

Act, as performed at the Theatre Royal, English Opera House. Is. 6 
SHORT REIGN AND A MERRY ONE; a Petite Comedy, in Tv 

Acts, by John Poole, as performed at the Theatre Royal, Cover 

garden. 2s. 
WINE DOES WONDERS; a Comedy, in Three Acts, as perform 

at the Theatre Royal, Haymarket. 2s. 6d. 
DAVID RIZZIO; a serious Opera, in Three Acts, by Colonel Hamiltc 

as performed at the Theatre Royal, Drury-lane. 2s. 6d. 
ZUMA; or, the Tree of Health; an Opera, in Three Acts, by Thorn 

Dibdin, as performed at the Theatre Royal, Covent-garden. 2s. 6d. 
ALL AT COVENTRY ; or, Love and Laugh ; a Farcical Entertai 

ment, by W. T. Moncrieff, as performed at the Olympic Theatre. 2s 
DIAMOND ARROW; or, the Postmaster's Wife and the Mayo 

Daughter; a Petite Comedy, in One Act, by W. T. Moncrieff, as pe 

formed at the Olympic Theatre. Is. 6d. 
VICAR OF WAKEFIELD ; a Melo-dramatic Burletta, in Thr 

Acts, by T. Dibdin, as performed at the Surrey Theatre. Is. 6d. 
MY UNCLE; an Operetta, in One Act,by Samuel Beazly, as perform 

at the Theatre Royal, English Opera House, is. 6d. 



% i>: 



». 



